Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Carr Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on casual conversation lists but mapped and named, which means someone thought it worth distinguishing from the surrounding wetland. No fish data on file, no maintained trail infrastructure, no nearby summits to anchor a day hike — this is the kind of water that exists primarily as a dot on the DEC wetlands inventory and a name on the USGS quad. If you're looking for it, you're likely working a tight radius around Tupper Lake itself, or you're a canoeist threading through the Raquette River drainage and its feeder ponds. Expect bushwhacking, beaver activity, and solitude by default.
Cat Mountain Pond is a 22-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to miss on a topo map, quiet enough that most paddlers never get there. No fish stocking records and no maintained trail infrastructure mean this is either private, gated, or accessed by locals who know the woods. The name suggests a wooded rise somewhere nearby, but without public access details this one stays off the standard circuit. If you know the gate code or the logging road in, it's yours — otherwise it's a pin on the map for another season.
Cat Pond is a 50-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of dozens of small, unnamed-on-most-maps waters tucked into the working forest between the big tourist corridors. No fish data on record, no marked trails on the DEC inventory, no lean-tos or designated campsites. It's the kind of water that shows up on a topo map when you're plotting a bushwhack or a canoe portage, not when you're planning a family weekend — worth knowing exists if you're already deep in that part of the park.
Catamount Pond sits northeast of Tupper Lake village — a 107-acre water in the middle-elevation rolling country that defines this quieter corner of the Park. No fish species on record, which often means either unstocked brookies that no one's officially cataloging or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown; local intel would clarify. The name suggests historical beaver activity or an old trapper's reference — catamount being the colonial term for mountain lion, long extinct in New York but persistent in Adirondack placenames. Access and shore conditions here require ground-truthing; the pond doesn't appear on the standard DEC day-hike or paddling circuit, which usually means either private shoreline or a poorly-marked bushwhack.
Center Pond is an 18-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most fishing reports, large enough to hold a canoe loop worth paddling. No public fish stocking data on record, which usually means either unmaintained brook trout (if the water is cold and spring-fed) or a warm-water panfish pond that DEC hasn't surveyed in years. Access details are sparse in the standard trail guides, suggesting either private shoreline or a local-knowledge bushwhack — worth a stop at a Tupper Lake outfitter or the regional DEC office before you commit to a hike in.
Chandler Pond is a 33-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most touring itineraries, large enough to hold fish if they're there (the state has no species on record, but that means unstocked, not necessarily fishless). The pond sits in working forest country where access typically means either a gated logging road or a shoreline easement that changes with timber company ownership — worth a call to the local DEC office before you drive out. Waters this size in this part of the park tend to be shallow, weedy by mid-summer, and better for a canoe than a hike-in. If you're already in Tupper Lake with a boat on the roof and you want to avoid the weekend traffic on Raquette or Tupper, Chandler is the kind of pond that rewards low expectations.
Chaumont Pond is a 13-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to escape most attention, large enough to hold fish if they're there, though no species are on record with DEC surveys. The pond sits in working forest country where access typically means gated logging roads or private land, so confirming public entry before you bushwhack is the move. Waters this size in this part of the Park often connect to local knowledge more than trailhead signs — ask at bait shops or the ranger station in Tupper Lake if you're scouting it seriously. If it does have public shore access, it's the kind of spot where you'll have it to yourself on a Tuesday in June.
Chaumont Pond spreads across 670 acres in the Tupper Lake region — a substantial piece of water that sits below most radar despite its size. The pond lacks the highway-side access of nearby Tupper Lake proper, which keeps usage light and the shoreline relatively undeveloped. No fish species data on file with DEC, though ponds of this size in the region typically hold warmwater species — bass, pike, and panfish. For boaters willing to work out the put-in, 670 acres means room to move and shoreline to explore without fighting for elbow room on a summer Saturday.
Chaumont Pond is a nine-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it doesn't pull much traffic, and far enough from the High Peaks corridor that it stays off most touring itineraries. No fish records on file, which usually means either the pond has gone unstocked for decades or it's too shallow and weedy to hold trout through an Adirondack winter. The name is French, like much of the older nomenclature around Tupper and Saranac — likely tied to early logging-era camps or private leases that predate the Forest Preserve. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious, but not a destination pond on its own.
Church Pond sits off the grid in the working forest west of Tupper Lake — 21 acres tucked into the timberlands where camp roads and logging tracks outnumber trail signs. No fish stocking records, no lean-tos, no named trailheads in the state database: this is the category of Adirondack water that shows up on the DEC lists but not in the hiking guides, the kind of place you find by talking to someone at a bait shop or by studying the corners of a topo map. If you're looking for solitude and you know how to navigate unmarked access, ponds like Church are why you carry a compass and tell someone where you're going.
Clamshell Pond is a 38-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — not a household name, not on the High Peaks circuit, and that's the appeal. No fish species data on record means either nobody's surveyed it lately or nobody's reporting what they're catching; either way, it's not known as a fishing destination. The pond sits in working forest country where access details tend to be more about knowing which logging roads are passable and less about trailhead parking and kiosks. If you're in the area and you find your way in, you'll have it to yourself — bring a map, bring a compass, and don't expect company.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Curtis Pond is a 20-acre water in the Tupper Lake township — one of dozens of small ponds scattered through the working forest west of Tupper Lake village, most of them accessed by private logging roads or unmaintained routes that shift with active timber management. The state owns no formal public access point, which keeps the pond off most paddlers' lists and limits use to locals who know the current road conditions and landowner arrangements. No fish stocking records and no angler reports in the DEC database — it may hold native brookies, or it may be too shallow and warm to winter fish at all. If you're hunting for Curtis Pond specifically, call the Tupper Lake town office or stop at Raquette River Outfitters; access status here changes with harvest cycles and posted-land boundaries.
