Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Halfmoon Pond is a nine-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more canoe traffic than motorboats, though access details remain thin on public record. No fish species data on file, which usually means either unstocked and untested or simply too minor for DEC survey priority. The name suggests a crescent shoreline, and ponds this size in Tupper country tend to sit along old logging roads or within short paddling distance of larger connected waters. Worth a look if you're mapping the area's smaller stillwaters, but bring a GPS track and low expectations for infrastructure.
Hannawa Pond sits just outside Tupper Lake village — 187 acres of shallow, weedy water that fishes more like a warm-water bay than a classic Adirondack pond. The shoreline is largely residential, with private camps dating back decades, and public access comes via a small launch suitable for canoes and cartop boats. This is local paddling territory, not destination water — the kind of place where you put in at dawn for bass or pickerel, then pull out by mid-morning when the motorboats wake up. No trails, no lean-tos, no dramatic backstory — just a working pond on the edge of town that does what it's supposed to do.
Haymeadow Pond is a 15-acre water tucked into the working forest southwest of Tupper Lake — one of dozens of small ponds in this zone that remain largely off the radar of the High Peaks crowd. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means limited angling pressure and limited stocking history; access details are sparse, suggesting private land or unmaintained routes rather than a marked trailhead. The name hints at old pasture or logging camp clearing — common in this corner of the park where timber operations and subsistence farming ran through the early 20th century. If you're chasing it, confirm access and ownership before you walk in.
Heath Pond is a 23-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to slip past casual attention, large enough to hold quiet if you find access. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout that never made the DEC reports or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown. The name suggests bog margins and shallow water — classic Adirondack lowland habitat, more likely to reward a canoe than a hiking boot. If you're working this area, cross-reference with local paddling routes or ask at the Tupper Lake outfitters for current access and conditions.
Heavens Pond — 42 acres in the Tupper Lake region — sits in working forest country where detail tends to be sparse and access can shift with timber operations or private easement changes. No fish species on record, which usually means either unstocked or catch data never made it into the DEC system; ponds this size often hold brookies if there's adequate depth and oxygenation. Without curated trail or lean-to data, this is likely a bushwhack or seasonal-road access situation — worth a call to the local DEC office or a check of current sportsman access maps before you plan a trip in.
Hedgehog Pond is a 19-acre water tucked into the working forest northwest of Tupper Lake — small enough to slip past most maps, large enough to hold a canoe for an afternoon. Access details are scarce in the public record, which usually means private inholdings or gated logging roads; worth a call to the local DEC office or a stop at a Tupper Lake outfitter before planning a trip. The pond sits in that zone where state land fragments into private timber tracts and hunting camps — not remote wilderness, but quiet country where you're more likely to see a beaver lodge than another paddler. No fish data on file, but ponds this size in this landscape typically hold brookies or perch if they hold anything at all.
High Pond sits northwest of Tupper Lake village — a 41-acre water in a region better known for its larger lakes and motorized access. The pond holds no state fish-stocking records, which in Tupper Lake country usually means either natural brook trout populations or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown. Without formal trail records or lean-to data, this is local knowledge territory: ask at the Tupper Lake outfitters or the town office for current access. In a region dominated by Big Tupper, Raquette River paddling, and snowmobile corridors, the smaller named ponds tend to be hunting-season destinations or spring bushwhacks.
Higley Flow is a 349-acre impoundment on the Raquette River just north of Tupper Lake village — wide, shallow, marshy at the edges, and more fisherman's float-tube water than postcard pond. The state boat launch off County Route 421 (Higley Flow Road) puts you into a maze of bays, islands, and deadwater channels that bleed into the main river corridor; paddlers treat it as a link in longer Raquette trips, not a destination. The flow sits low in the watershed with soft banks and lily pads by midsummer — classic northern pike and bass habitat, though no recent stocking or survey data is on file. Local anglers work the drop-offs near the dam at first light.
Higley Flow is a 24-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel intimate, large enough to paddle without circling back every ten minutes. The name suggests dam or beaver work at some point, but the current state is what matters: it's off the main corridor, which means you're not sharing the water with a parade of day-trippers from Lake Placid. No fish data on record, so if you're going in with a rod, you're scouting. Best bet is to ask at a local shop in Tupper Lake before you drive out — someone will know if it's worth the gas.
Hilliards Creek is a 22-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to paddle without circling back on yourself in ten minutes. The name suggests an old landowner or settler family, common in this part of the Park where logging camps and subsistence farms preceded the blue line. No fish species data on file, which typically means either unstocked native brookies that no one's bothered to survey, or a pond that winters too shallow to hold trout year-round. Worth a look if you're mapping quiet water in the Tupper orbit and don't need a marked trailhead to make it count.
Hitchins Pond is a mid-sized water in the Tupper Lake township — 254 acres, set back from the main roads in a landscape of mixed forest and private holdings that defines much of the northwestern park. Without fish stocking records or maintained public access, it falls into that category of Adirondack ponds that exist more on the map than in the rotation of anglers and paddlers — visible from the air, traced on the DEC wetlands inventory, but quiet. The shoreline is a mix of wetland fingers and wooded banks; likely accessible by landowner permission or old logging routes, but not a destination with a trailhead sign. A placeholder water — named, counted, undramatized.
Hoel Pond is a 460-acre lake in the Tupper Lake region — mid-sized by Adirondack standards, large enough to hold some wind but not on the tourist circuit. The lack of species data on record suggests limited management interest or stocking history, though most waters this size in the northwest corner hold warmwater species — bass, pike, perch — and the occasional remnant brook trout population in cooler pockets. Access details are scarce, which typically means private shoreline or limited public entry points; worth confirming locally before launching. If you're working the Tupper Lake area and need a Plan B water, Hoel sits in that second-tier rotation — fishable, swimmable, but not the headliner.
Hopkinton Pond is a one-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't register on most trail maps or fish stocking records. Waters this size in the northern Adirondacks are often old beaver work or glacial depressions that never quite grew into destinations; they hold their own quiet, but you won't find a parking lot or a DEC campsite waiting. If you're looking for it, you're probably bushwhacking — and if you find it, you'll have it to yourself.
Hornet Ponds — plural, though the water reads as a single 33-acre body on most maps — sits in the working forest south of Tupper Lake, part of the patchwork of private timberland, easement access, and state parcels that defines the northwest Adirondacks. Access typically follows gated logging roads; conditions and permissions shift with ownership and harvest schedules, so local inquiry is standard protocol. The ponds see more use from hunters in fall than paddlers in summer — this is grouse and deer country, not trout water, and the shoreline reflects it: lowland hardwoods, alder thickets, and the kind of quiet that comes from being off the standard lake-loop circuit. Check with the regional DEC office or a Tupper Lake outfitter for current access status before heading in.
Hornet Ponds is a 47-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of those mid-sized waters that sits off the main recreation corridors, less documented than the roadside ponds and less hiked than the backcountry destinations. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either limited stocking history or limited angler pressure — sometimes both. The name suggests either an old logging-era nickname or a territorial yellowjacket colony that made an impression on early surveyors. Worth a look if you're mapping the ponds between Tupper and the Five Ponds Wilderness, but bring a topo and don't count on a maintained trail.
Horseshoe Pond is a 28-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel private once you're on it. No formal fish stocking records on file, which typically means wild brookies or nothing at all; local knowledge runs stronger than DEC data for ponds this size. Access details aren't well-documented in the standard trail registries, so it's worth checking with the local DEC office or a Tupper Lake outfitter before planning a trip. These quiet, mid-size ponds often require a short bushwhack or an unmarked woods road — the kind of water that rewards persistence but doesn't advertise itself.
Horseshoe Pond sits northwest of Tupper Lake village — a small, 16-acre water with no documented fishery and limited online mention, which typically means either private shoreline or a put-in that requires local knowledge to find. The name suggests the classic glacial scour shape common to ponds in this part of the Park, and the acreage puts it in canoe-and-float-tube range if access exists. Without a DEC stocking record or marked trailhead, this is one to ask about at the Tupper Lake tackle shops or the town clerk's office — the kind of spot that shows up on the map but lives mostly in the mental geography of year-round residents. If you locate access, bring a depth finder; small ponds this quiet sometimes hold panfish or perch that never made it into the state database.
Horseshoe Pond is an 88-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — mid-sized by local standards, named for the bend in its shoreline. No fish stocking records on file, which typically signals either private ownership or a pond that doesn't hold trout through summer drawdown. The name appears on DeLorme but not in most paddling guides, a tell that access is either gated or simply undeveloped. Worth a phone call to the local DEC office in Ray Brook if you're looking to explore it — they'll know whether there's a put-in and whether you need permission.
Horton Ponds sit in the working forest northwest of Tupper Lake — eleven acres of backcountry water accessible via private logging roads that shift status depending on timber operations and landowner agreements. No formal trails, no DEC signage, no stocking records in the state database. This is not a destination pond unless you're already deep in the region's timber road network with a map, a truck, and a reason to be there. For public-access fishing and paddling near Tupper Lake, Raquette Pond and Hitchins Pond to the south are the reliable alternatives.
Horton Ponds — plural on the map, one continuous shallow basin in practice — sits in working forestland southwest of Tupper Lake, accessible via a network of private logging roads that shift status season to season. The 24-acre spread is too remote for casual day-use and too undefined for targeted fishing pressure, which keeps it in that middle category of Adirondack waters: known to locals with land access or snowmobile routes, invisible to the trailhead crowd. No stocking records, no DEC campsites, no designated trail — this is a pond you find because you're already out there, not one you drive to find.
