Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Clear Pond is a one-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps and likely tucked into private or limited-access land. The name suggests spring-fed clarity, but without public access or fishery data on record, this is one of those ponds that exists more as a surveyed dot than as a destination. In a region dense with named lakes and established paddling routes, Clear Pond sits quietly off the list — a reminder that not every Adirondack water doubles as a trailhead or a put-in. If you're hunting it down, confirm access and ownership before you bushwhack.
Clear Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't draw crowds, large enough to feel like a destination if you're looking for stillwater away from the main lake corridor. No fish data on file, which often means either wild brookies that slip through DEC surveys or simply a pond that doesn't hold fish year-round; locals who know it will know which. The Lake George Wild Forest has dozens of these small ponds tucked into the hills — some accessed by old logging roads, some by bushwhack — and Clear Pond fits that pattern: a place you find because someone told you about it or because you're willing to poke around with a map.
Clear Pond is a 74-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — mid-sized for the region, tucked into the working forest south of the main Raquette Lake basin. No public access data or fish stocking records on file, which usually means private inholdings or land-locked state parcels awaiting easement or trail development. The name shows up on USGS quads and DEC wetland maps but not in the standard paddling guides — a placeholder for now. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake backcountry and see a footpath, check the DEC unit management plan or call the Inlet ranger station before assuming it's open water.
Clear Pond is a 25-acre water in the Indian Lake township — one of dozens of small ponds scattered across the southern Adirondacks that carry generic names (Clear, Round, Mud) and minimal fisheries data on file with DEC. Without stocked trout or formal access, ponds like this tend to stay quiet: local cabin traffic, the occasional canoe launch from a nearby camp road, maybe a beaver lodge at the inlet. If you're looking for it on a map, cross-reference the USGS quad and confirm road access before committing to the drive — "Clear Pond" appears six times across the Park, and not all of them are reachable by public right-of-way.
Clear Pond is a 37-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — a mid-sized pond in an area where naming conventions run more functional than poetic. Without recorded fish survey data or documented public access points, it sits in that middle category of Adirondack ponds: neither a destination fishery nor a roadside picnic stop, but part of the working landscape of private timberland, hunting camps, and seasonal camps that define much of the northwestern park. If you're looking for it on a map, start with the Tupper Lake quad and cross-reference local access rights — many ponds this size are reachable only by permission or old logging roads that may or may not still be passable.
Clear Pond is an 18-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough to feel remote, large enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring by canoe or kayak. No formal fish survey data on record, which usually means either native brook trout in low numbers or nothing at all; local knowledge and a few casts with a fly rod will settle the question. The pond sits within the web of old roads, drainage routes, and connector trails that knit together the Raquette Lake backcountry — not a destination water, but a solid option if you're already in the area and looking for quiet water away from the bigger lakes. Expect blow-down on unmarked approaches and no maintained facilities.
Clear Pond is a small backcountry pond accessible by unmarked route — no maintained trail, no official campsite. The water holds native brook trout; navigate by map and compass if you're willing to bushwhack.
Clear Pond is an eight-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't pull a crowd, large enough that it holds its own as a destination if you're in the neighborhood. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brookies if anything, or nothing at all. The name shows up on the DEC inventory but not much else — one of those ponds that exists more as a map dot than a known quantity, which in the Old Forge lake district means it's either tucked behind private land or just far enough off the main drags that paddlers stick to Fourth Lake instead.
Clear Pond is a remote body of water accessible via the Northville-Placid Trail near the West Canada Lakes Wilderness. No motorized access; expect multi-day backpacking to reach it, with minimal shoreline development and reliable solitude.
Clear Pond is a 15-acre pond in the Keene township — small enough to miss on most maps, quiet enough that it stays that way. No official fish stocking records, no established campsite clusters, no trail register at a formal trailhead — this is backcountry in the older sense, where you walk in with a topo and walk out with a story but not necessarily a selfie. The water sits in mixed hardwood and softwood cover typical of the mid-elevation Keene Valley drainage, accessible to those who know where to look but unlikely to appear on a weekend itinerary. If you're here, you probably already know why.
Clear Pond is a 24-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — one of those middle-distance ponds that sits off the main recreation corridors and doesn't pull casual traffic. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout that no one's bothering to survey or a pond that doesn't hold fish through the winter. The Paradox Lake area itself is a mix of private shoreline and low-key state land access, so approach expectations accordingly — this is more likely a bushwhack or local-knowledge destination than a marked trailhead experience. If you're already in the area for Paradox Lake itself, Clear Pond makes sense as a secondary explore; otherwise, it's a research-first outing.
Clear Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that the name likely describes what you see, common enough that half the ponds in the park could claim it. No fish data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed in decades or it's too shallow, too acidic, or too tannic to hold anything worth catching. The kind of pond that shows up on a USGS quad, earns a pushpin on the map, and waits for someone with a canoe and a free afternoon to tell the rest of us what's actually there. If you know the access or the backstory, it's worth sharing — these quiet 30-acre ponds are often the best-kept secrets in the park.
Clear Pond is a 26-acre water in the Indian Lake town limits — one of dozens of small ponds scattered through the central Adirondacks that don't announce themselves from the highway and don't appear on the short lists. No fish survey data on record, which usually means limited access or low angling pressure, or both. The name suggests the obvious (tannic waters are the norm here, so a clear pond registers), but without a known trailhead or boat launch in the immediate file, this is either private-access or bushwhack territory. Worth a look on the DEC Unit Management Plan maps if you're hunting quiet water in the Indian Lake area.
Clements Pond is a four-acre water in Keene — small enough that it doesn't anchor a trail system or pull weekend traffic, which means it's either privately held or tucked into working forest where access isn't formalized. No fish stocking records on file, which tracks for ponds this size that sit outside the DEC's management rotation. If you're hunting small water in the Keene corridor, this one stays off the recreational radar — more likely a detail on a property deed than a paddling destination.
Cliff Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't show up on most planning maps, and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means either natural brook trout populations or nothing at all; local knowledge is the only reliable intel here. The name suggests rock ledges at the shoreline or a bluff somewhere in the drainage — common enough in this part of the western Adirondacks, where the topography shifts from flat pine flats to abrupt granite ridges without much warning. Worth a look if you're already in the area and chasing small water; don't plan a weekend around it.
Clifton Iron Mine pond is a 3-acre water tucked into the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it won't appear on most road maps, and named for the 19th-century iron operations that left their mark across this corner of the Park. No fish stocking records and no formal access infrastructure mean this is a bushwhack or local-knowledge proposition, not a day-hike destination. If you're working the northern Tupper backcountry and come across it, it's worth a look for the industrial archaeology context — iron mining shaped the settlement patterns and timber economy here long before the state bought the land back. Expect a quiet, off-trail water with more historical interest than recreational infrastructure.
Clockmill Pond is a 61-acre water in the Speculator area — mid-sized by local standards, quiet by design. The name suggests mill-era settlement history, though the pond today sits well off the main tourist corridors that funnel traffic toward Lake Pleasant and Sacandaga Lake to the south. No fish species data on record with DEC, which usually means light stocking pressure and local-knowledge fishing at best. Worth a look if you're already in the Speculator orbit and hunting for still water that doesn't show up on the summer rental circuit.
Close Pond is a ten-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than anglers, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. No fish species data on record, which usually means either marginal habitat or simply that DEC hasn't surveyed it in decades. Ponds this size in the Tupper Lake corridor often sit on private timber company land or require a bushwhack off a seasonal logging road — worth a map check and a property line review before you commit to the drive. If you're after solitude and don't need a stocked trout pond, this is the kind of water that delivers.
Cod Pond holds 48 acres in the Speculator region — a mid-sized water with no stocking records and no established reputation for trout or bass, which usually means local knowledge and a paddle-in or bushwhack situation. The name suggests old logging-camp geography: provisions cached, a survey marker, a trapper's route that predates the state land acquisitions. Without public access intel in the DEC files, this is either gated private, landlocked by posted parcels, or tucked behind enough forest that it stays off the casual angler's list. Worth a call to the Region 5 DEC office in Ray Brook if you're hunting quiet water and don't mind the detective work.
Coffee Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't show up on most recreation maps. No fish data on record, which usually means either wild brook trout that no one's bothered to survey or a shallow basin that winterkills. The name suggests an old logging camp or a trapper's nickname; ponds this size in the central Adirondacks tend to be remnants of 19th-century backcountry geography that never made it into the hiking-guide economy. Worth investigating if you're already in the area with a topo map and a willingness to bushwhack.
Coldspring Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid region — small enough that it rarely appears on recreation maps and quiet enough that most visitors to the area never register its name. No fish species on record, which typically means either it's too shallow to hold trout year-round or it's never been stocked and surveyed by DEC — common for ponds under ten acres in private or mixed-access watersheds. The name suggests a spring-fed source, and the "cold" prefix often correlates with clear water and a gravel or bedrock bottom. Worth confirming access status and ownership before planning a visit.
Colton Flow spreads across 113 acres in the Tupper Lake wild, part of the Five Ponds Wilderness drainage system — a low-gradient wetland complex where the Raquette River corridor opens into bogs, beaver meadows, and interconnected flowages. Access typically means a paddle from one of the upstream put-ins along the Raquette, threading through channels that shift year to year depending on beaver activity and water levels. This is backcountry paddling territory: no road access, no maintained sites at the flow itself, and navigation that rewards a map, a compass, and patience. Best treated as a waypoint on a multi-day route rather than a destination — the kind of water you pass through, not the kind you drive to.
Colvin Pond is a 25-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel like you've gone somewhere. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means it's either too shallow to hold trout through summer or it's simply off the DEC's radar for management. The pond sits in working forest country rather than the High Peaks corridor, so access likely depends on logging roads and whatever informal routes the locals know — worth a call to a Tupper Lake outfitter or the local DEC office before you load the canoe. These minor ponds often fish better than their paperwork suggests.
Conglin Lakes is a 4-acre pond in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it likely escaped formal DEC fisheries surveys, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. The name suggests historical settlement or logging-era geography, common in the southern Adirondacks where parcels were often named for families or operations rather than natural features. Without road access or established trails leading in, this is the kind of water that exists more as a cartographic footnote than a destination — worth knowing about if you're bushwhacking the area or studying old property maps, but not a place you'll find trip reports or a designated put-in.
Conglin Lakes sits in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — a 4-acre pond in country better known for its reservoir shoreline and seasonal camps than for backcountry access. No fish species on record and no mapped trail means this one stays quiet by default, likely landlocked behind private holdings or accessed only by those who already know the route in. The broader Sacandaga watershed is a patchwork of public and private land; without a clear DEC access point, Conglin Lakes remains more reference than destination. Worth checking the latest DEC land acquisition maps if you're prospecting for small water in this corner of the southern Adirondacks.
Connery Pond sits at the foot of the Sentinel Range along NY-86, halfway between Lake Placid village and the base of Whiteface. A short walk-in from the highway lot (under a mile, mostly flat) gets you to a DEC lean-to on the east shore — a popular base for paddling the pond, a Whiteface day climb up the Memorial Highway, or as a quieter alternative when Heart Lake is full. Brook trout fishing, swimming off the shoreline rocks. The view of Sentinel and McKenzie from the pond is one of the underrated Lake Placid–corridor frames. Memorial Day weekend the lean-to fills fast — get there Thursday night.
Constable Pond is a 50-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — part of the quiet, less-trafficked network of ponds and forest between the Blue Ridge Road corridor and the Fulton Chain. No fish data on record, which usually means minimal stocking history and light angling pressure, though wild brookies turn up in these back-country ponds often enough to keep a rod in the canoe. Access specifics vary across this zone — some waters require a paddle-in from a larger lake, others sit at the end of unmarked woods roads or old logging trails that may or may not appear on current maps. Worth confirming access and ownership status before planning a trip.
Cook Pond is a 44-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — quiet, off the main tourist corridors, and the kind of pond that doesn't make it onto the Instagram feed but holds appeal for anyone who wants elbow room and stillness. No official fish species data on record, which usually means either minimal stocking history or a pond that gets fished lightly enough that the DEC hasn't surveyed it in years. Access details are sparse in the public record, so confirm ownership and entry points locally before planning a trip. Worth a look if you're already in the area and prefer discovering water on your own terms.
Cook Pond Outlet is a six-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it reads more like a widening in a drainage than a standalone destination, though the name suggests it once mattered enough to warrant distinction from whatever Cook Pond proper might be upstream. No fish data on file, no trails marked on state maps, no lean-tos — this is the kind of water that shows up in the DEC's Named Waters inventory but not in anyone's weekend plans unless you're working through a completist checklist or studying watershed drainage patterns. If you're after solitude and don't mind bushwhacking or paddling speculative access routes, the Tupper Lake wild lands hold dozens of these unnamed-in-practice ponds; Cook Pond Outlet at least got a name.
Cooler Pond is a six-acre pocket of water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. No fish data on record, which usually means either marginal habitat or simply too far off the beaten path to draw survey attention. The name suggests either a surveyor's quirk or a long-forgotten local reference — cooling a catch, a spring-fed temperature drop, or just somebody's dry humor on a hot afternoon. Worth a look if you're already deep in the area and curious, but don't expect a trailhead sign.
Coon Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreation maps and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout in low numbers or a pond that winters out every few decades. Without maintained trail access or nearby trailhead infrastructure, this is the kind of water that gets visited by local landowners, adjacent campers, or the occasional bushwhacker working through a topo map. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip.
Coonrod Pond is a four-acre pocket of water in the town of Keene — small enough that it lives below the radar of most paddlers and anglers, and quiet enough that if you know where it is, you're probably keeping it that way. No fish stocking records, no formal access points advertised, no trail register to sign. These kinds of ponds tend to sit on private land or require bushwhacking through mixed hardwood and wetland edges, which means they stay off the weekend rotation and hold onto their solitude. If you're hunting stillwater that doesn't show up on every hiking app, start with the town tax maps.
Cooper Kill Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid township — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational lists, quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish data on record, no trail register, no lean-to — the kind of water that serves as a landmark on a bushwhack route or a turnaround point on a dirt road rather than a destination. The name Cooper Kill follows the Dutch colonial convention (kill = creek), suggesting the pond drains into a small tributary system rather than holding any depth or flow of its own. If you're looking for it, you already know why.
Copeland Pond is a small backcountry pond in the High Peaks Wilderness, accessed via a 1.2-mile bushwhack from the Mount Jo trail junction. No maintained trail — navigators only; the reward is solitude and a clear view south toward the MacIntyre Range.
Copper Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Keene town limits — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps and remote enough that local knowledge is the primary access route. No fish species on record, which either means it hasn't been stocked or surveyed in recent decades, or that it's a shallow seasonal pond that doesn't hold trout through summer. The name suggests old mining activity in the watershed, though copper extraction in the eastern High Peaks was mostly exploratory and short-lived compared to the iron operations further south. Worth confirming access and condition with the town office or local outfitters before planning a trip.
Copperas Pond sits in a small bowl off NY-86 between Lake Placid and Wilmington — a 0.6-mile hike from the highway trailhead and one of the most accessible quiet ponds in the High Peaks corridor. Three primitive DEC-designated tent sites line the shoreline; the Eastern Shore site, set on a flat granite shelf at the water's edge, is the prize. The pond connects to Owen Pond (south) and Winch Pond (east) via a 2.1-mile loop trail — a classic family hike and a sensible basecamp for day-hiking Cascade, Porter, or Pitchoff. Brook trout in the pond; brookies and the occasional rainbow in the connector streams. On Memorial Day weekend the three sites are claimed by Friday afternoon.
Copperas Pond — 25 acres off the Tupper Lake grid, not to be confused with the better-known Copperas Pond in the High Peaks — sits in the kind of forested middle ground that defines much of the northern Adirondacks: no dramatic peaks, no maintained trails on most maps, no lean-tos or designated campsites. The pond is typical of the region's working forest landscape — accessible by logging roads that shift with ownership and seasonal use, fished occasionally by locals who know the access points, and otherwise left to loons and the odd moose. No species data on file with DEC, which usually means either no stocking history or simply no survey work — common for small waters outside the recreation corridors. Worth checking current topo maps and local knowledge before heading in.
Corner Pond is a 21-acre water in the Indian Lake region — one of those back-country ponds that doesn't appear on many hiking routes but holds a place in the network of remote stillwaters scattered across the southern Adirondacks. No fish records on file, which usually means limited stocking history and minimal angling pressure. The name suggests a surveyor's reference point or a property boundary from the old timber days, though the specifics are lost to local memory. Access details are scarce — check with the Indian Lake town office or the DEC Ray Brook office for current status on trails or bushwhack approaches.
Corner Pond sits north of Long Lake village — a 61-acre water with no formal trail access and no fish stocking records, which means it's either a bushwhack destination or a paddler's side trip from the Raquette River system depending on how the drainage connects. The name suggests it marks a surveyor's boundary or a property corner from the old timber-lease days, but without recent DEC use or angler traffic, it's dropped off the recreational radar. Waters like this are common in the Long Lake corridor: named on the map, viable by canoe or compass, but not maintained for foot traffic. If you're already on the Raquette with a boat and a day to explore, Corner Pond might be worth the detour — otherwise it's a map dot, not a destination.
Corner Pond is a three-acre pocket tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough that it won't appear on most road atlases and remote enough that casual access information is scarce. No fish species data on file, which in the deeper backcountry often means either unstocked or unsampled rather than barren; brook trout move into these small waters opportunistically after high-water years. The name suggests either a surveyor's landmark or a position relative to a larger water or property line — context that's gone quiet in the local record. Worth asking at the Long Lake town office or the local DEC if you're serious about finding it.
Cotters Pond is an 11-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough to miss on most maps, set in the mix of private land and old working forest that defines this corner of the eastern Adirondacks. The Paradox Lake corridor runs quieter than the High Peaks or the central lakes, and ponds like Cotters tend to hold their solitude: no marked trails, no DEC campsites, no pressure from day-trippers routing between bigger destinations. Access details are sparse, which usually means posted shoreline or a bushwhack through second-growth hardwoods. No fish data on record, but that's the norm for small ponds off the tourism grid — worth a knock on a nearby door if you're curious.
Courtney Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it won't show up on most recreation maps, tucked into the kind of wooded parcel that defines the eastern Adirondacks' mix of private land and old-growth quiet. No public access infrastructure, no fish stocking records, no trail register at a trailhead — this is either a private pond or effectively landlocked by the surrounding ownership pattern. If you're poking around Paradox Lake or driving the backroads near Severance, you might catch a glimpse through the trees, but don't expect a put-in or a campsite.
Covey Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than anglers, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. No fish species on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means either it winters out or nobody's bothered to stock it. The name suggests old hunting camp ties, common in this part of the park where private inholdings and club lands still shape the landscape. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake drainage and stumble on it, you're either lost or you know exactly what you're doing.
Cowhorn Pond is a 21-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, remote enough that local knowledge matters more than DEC signage. No fish stocking records and no established trail infrastructure mean this is a bushwhack or local-access situation, the kind of pond that shows up on the map but not in the guidebooks. The name suggests old logging-era nomenclature, possibly tied to a boundary marker or a cattle drive route before the Forest Preserve boundaries hardened. If you're going, bring a compass and a topo — and confirm access before you park.
Crab Pond is a 34-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — quiet, low-traffic, and off the main recreational corridors that pull crowds toward the High Peaks or Lake George. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means wild brookies or nothing at all; locals who know it tend to keep it that way. Access details are scarce in the DEC's public records, suggesting either private land complications or a bushwhack-only approach — the kind of pond that rewards a topo map and a willingness to navigate by contour lines. If you're poking around Paradox Lake and looking for solitude instead of a boat launch, Crab Pond is the direction to point.
Crab Pond is an 8-acre water in the Brant Lake area — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radar, but large enough to hold a canoe for an hour or two if you can find access. No fish species data on record, which either means it hasn't been stocked in recent memory or the DEC simply hasn't surveyed it; either way, don't count on brookies. The pond sits in a patchwork of private and former-timber-company land typical of the southeastern Adirondacks — check local access before you go, and expect a bushwhack or an old woods road rather than a marked trail.
Cracker Pond is a 24-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — remote enough that fishing and access records are thin, which usually means either private holdings nearby or a bushwhack-only approach through working forest. The name suggests old logger camps or a trapper's cabin, the kind of backcountry nomenclature that predates the Blue Line by decades. No formal trail appears on current DEC maps, and no stocking or survey data on file. If you're sorting through a USGS quad looking for untracked water in the Raquette drainage, Cracker Pond is the kind of dot that rewards a satellite pass and a conversation with a local before you commit the afternoon.
Cranberry Pond is a 30-acre water in the Indian Lake town corridor — small enough to feel private, large enough to paddle for an hour without retracing your stroke. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means native brook trout or nothing at all; the DEC hasn't surveyed it in recent memory. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and spruce country, characteristic of the south-central Adirondacks where the terrain flattens out and the water stays dark with tannins. Access details are sparse — check with the Indian Lake town office or local outfitters for current put-in points and whether the shoreline is state land or private lease.
Cranberry Pond is a 47-acre kettle pond in the Tupper Lake wild — the kind of mid-sized water that shows up on the quad map but rarely makes it into guidebooks. No formal access trail on record, which typically means either a bushwhack approach through private timberland or a put-in from a logging road that may or may not still be passable. The name suggests the boggy, acidic shoreline common to ponds in this drainage — good for pitcher plants and tamarack, less good for wading. No fish data on file, which in the northern Adirondacks usually means either stocked-and-forgotten brookies or nothing at all.
Cranberry Pond is a 21-acre water tucked into the Old Forge working forest — one of those ponds named for what grows at the shoreline rather than what swims beneath it. No fish survey data on file with DEC, which typically means minimal stocking history and a pond that's either too shallow, too acidic, or periodically winterkills. Access details are thin: likely reached by seasonal logging road or unmaintained trail, and the kind of place you find by asking at a local outfitter rather than following a trailhead sign. Worth the scout if you're looking for solitude and don't need the promise of brookies.
Cranberry Pond is a 28-acre pond in the Raquette Lake region — small enough to hold a quiet morning paddle, large enough to feel removed once you're on the water. The name suggests the shoreline character you'd expect: boggy edges, conifer fringe, the kind of water that holds its own temperature well into June. No fish species data on file, which typically means either natural fishless conditions or simply under-documented — common for ponds off the main paddling corridors in this part of the Park. Worth checking local access and parking before you go; not all ponds in the Raquette drainage have formal DEC trailheads or maintained put-ins.
Cranberry Pond is a 32-acre water tucked in the Lake Placid region — one of dozens of mid-sized ponds in the northern Adirondacks that sit just outside the High Peaks spotlight. No fish species on record, which typically means either limited access, shallow bottom conditions that don't hold trout, or a history of winterkill that never got restocked. The name suggests the pond edges hold sphagnum mat and the kind of boggy shoreline that makes bushwhacking tough and keeps most paddlers looking elsewhere. Worth checking DEC maps for trail access if you're local and curious — but this isn't a destination pond for anglers or campers passing through.
Cranberry Pond is a 2-acre water in the Keene backcountry — small enough that most topo maps label it but most hikers walk past it en route to something taller. The name suggests the usual sphagnum-and-heath shoreline common to glacial kettle ponds in this part of the Park, and the acreage puts it in that category of ponds that exist more as waypoints than destinations. No fish data on record, which tracks for waters this size and this remote — if it holds brookies, they're small and the population is marginal. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious what a 2-acre Adirondack pond looks like when no one's paying attention.
Cranberry Pond is a 22-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to be overlooked, large enough to hold a quiet afternoon if you can find the access. No fish species on record, which likely means it's either too shallow to winter-stock or it's been passed over by DEC survey crews for decades. The name suggests the usual Adirondack bog margin — sphagnum mats, tamarack, maybe pitcher plants if the shoreline hasn't been trampled — but without formal access or nearby trail systems, this one stays off most paddlers' lists. Worth a topographic map and a conversation with the Tupper Lake town office if you're hunting stillwater in the area.
Crandall Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it rarely shows up on general recreational maps and likely functions more as a local feature than a fishing or paddling destination. No fish species data on record, which usually means either the pond hasn't been surveyed in decades or it doesn't hold a reliable trout population worth stocking. Without curated access points or nearby trail infrastructure, this is the kind of water you'd encounter while bushwhacking property lines or scanning old USGS quads — present on paper, quiet in practice.
Crane Mountain Pond sits at 2,440 feet on the southern flank of Crane Mountain, reached by a 2.6-mile trail from the Crane Mountain trailhead. The pond offers swimming, fishing for brook trout, and lean-to camping — popular as an overnight destination or a midpoint before the summit push.
Crane Pond is a 159-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — part of the eastern Adirondack drainage that feeds into Lake Champlain. The pond sits in working forest and old settlement land rather than the High Peaks corridor, which generally means quieter access and fewer crowds, though specifics on public launch points and fish populations remain undocumented in DEC records. Waters in this corner of the Park tend to hold warmwater species — bass, pickerel, perch — rather than trout, and shoreline access often depends on seasonal gated roads or informal fisherman's pull-offs. Check the DEC Region 5 office or local outfitters in Ticonderoga for current conditions and entry points.
Crane Pond is a 60-acre trailhead pond with drive-in access, serving as the primary staging area for hikes into the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness. Brook trout fishing; routes depart from here to Pharaoh Mountain and Pharaoh Lake.
Crane Pond is a small 17-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — the kind of pond that shows up on the DEC map but doesn't draw crowds or generate trailhead gossip. No fish species data on record, which typically means either unstocked and unfished or simply off the reporting grid; local knowledge would clarify. Access details aren't widely documented, but ponds of this size in this area are often reached by unmarked woods roads or private land — worth confirming ownership and access status before planning a trip. If you're hunting solitude and have a boat small enough to carry, this is the profile that sometimes delivers.
Cross Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it doesn't pull day-trippers off the Fulton Chain corridor, quiet enough that it holds the kind of stillness the bigger lakes traded away decades ago. No formal access or maintained trail on record, which usually means private shoreline or a bushwhack approach through working forestland — worth confirming ownership and access rights before heading in. The pond sits in the working forest between the tourist infrastructure of Old Forge and the true backcountry to the north and west, a category of water that exists more on old survey maps than in contemporary paddling guides. No fish species data on file, which isn't uncommon for small ponds outside the stocked rotation.
