Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Icehouse Pond sits just off NY-28 west of Raquette Lake village — eight acres of shallow water tucked into second-growth forest along the highway corridor. The name suggests a historical ice-cutting operation, likely serving one of the Great Camps or hotels that defined the Raquette Lake tourism economy in the late 1800s, though no structures remain visible from the road. No fish data on record, no formal trail access, and no nearby peaks — this is a roadside pond that serves more as a historical footnote than a paddling or fishing destination. If you're driving the southern Adirondack loop between Inlet and Blue Mountain Lake, it's the kind of water you pass without stopping.
Indian Mountain Pond is a seven-acre pocket in the Tupper Lake Wild Forest — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreation maps, quiet enough that it stays off most paddling itineraries. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means either wild brookies that never got documented or a pond that winterkills too hard to hold anything year-round. Access details are sparse in the DEC records; if you're hunting for it, start with the Tupper Lake region trail map and expect either a bushwhack or an unmarked woods road depending on which side you approach from. Best guess: this is a local-knowledge spot, not a trailhead destination.
Indian Pond is a 17-acre water in the Brant Lake region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold its own character. No fish species on record, which usually means either unmapped natural populations or quiet water that sees more canoe traffic than casting. The Brant Lake area sits in the southeastern Adirondacks where the terrain softens into rolling lake country rather than High Peaks drama — expect private shoreline mixed with older camps, less DEC signage, more local knowledge required. Worth confirming access with town or DEC records before planning a visit.
Ingraham Pond lies northwest of Saranac Lake village — a 132-acre water that sits off the main tourism corridors and sees more local use than through-traffic. The pond's size suggests decent paddling range, and the acreage typically means seasonal fishing pressure even without species documentation on file. Access details aren't widely published, which usually means either private shoreline or a local-knowledge put-in that doesn't show up on the standard trail maps. Worth a call to a Saranac Lake outfitter or the Ray Brook DEC office if you're planning a trip — they'll know the current access situation and whether it's worth the effort.
Inlet sits just off NY-3 between Saranac Lake village and Tupper Lake — a mid-sized pond tucked between the highway and the railroad corridor that runs parallel to it. At 94 acres it's large enough to hold water through summer but small enough that most paddlers pass it by for the bigger Saranac chain to the south or Upper Saranac to the west. The pond drains north into the Saranac River via a short outlet stream, putting it in the same watershed as the Lower Saranac Lake system despite sitting several miles downstream. No fish species on record, which usually means either limited access or limited interest — check local regs and DEC updates before dropping a line.
Inman Pond is a 13-acre water tucked into the eastern Lake George Wild Forest — small enough to feel like a find, large enough to paddle without running out of shoreline in twenty minutes. No public launch or marked trailhead appears on DEC maps, which typically means either old logging roads or bushwhacking from nearby forest access points; it's the kind of pond that shows up on USGS quads but not in the casual conversation at the Bolton boat launch. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these unmapped ponds — some accessible, some not, most quiet. Worth a map check and a scout if you're already working the woods south of Brant Lake or the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness boundary.
Iron Pond is a 27-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel removed once you're on it. No fish stocking records and no documented lean-tos or formal trails in the immediate drainage, which means it's likely either private-access or a bushwhack destination off a logging road. The name suggests old iron-ore activity, common in this part of the park where 19th-century mining operations left behind ponds, pits, and the occasional tailings pile reclaimed by alder and spruce. If you're chasing it, confirm access and ownership before you go — the Tupper Lake Wild Forest has plenty of unmarked ponds that require either permission or a good topo map and patience.
Iroquois Lock is a 2-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that most paddlers would call it a wide spot in a creek rather than a destination water. The name suggests canal-era infrastructure, likely tied to the log-drive days when timber moved through this drainage toward the mills, though the lock itself (if it ever functioned as such) is long gone or overgrown. No fish data on file, no maintained access that would show up on a DEC map. If you're poking around Tupper Lake's backcountry and stumble onto it, you've earned a footnote — but this isn't a put-in you'd plan a trip around.
Irving Pond sits in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — 62 acres, low-profile, and out of the primary recreation corridor that pulls traffic north to the High Peaks or west to the central lakes. No fish species data on file with DEC, which typically signals limited stocking history and minimal angling pressure; it's the kind of water that gets overlooked in favor of the reservoir itself or the bigger ponds with established access. The Great Sacandaga basin holds dozens of these smaller, quieter waters — some with formal access, many without — and Irving fits that pattern. If you're headed here, confirm access and ownership before you go.
Island Pond is a 26-acre water in the Brant Lake region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring. No fish species data on file, which usually means either limited stocking history or a pond that hasn't drawn survey attention from DEC in recent years. The name suggests at least one wooded hump breaking the surface, a common feature in glacially-scoured Adirondack basins where bedrock humps became islands as kettles filled. Access details aren't well-documented in the standard trail resources, so this one likely sits on private land or requires local knowledge to reach.
