Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Little Rock Pond is a 16-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to be overlooked, large enough to hold some depth and privacy if you're willing to work for it. No formal DEC data on what swims here, which usually means either nothing or brook trout that never see pressure; local knowledge wins. Access details are scarce in the public record, so assume bushwhack or private-land complications unless you've got a topo and patience. Worth a scout if you're already in the area and looking for water that doesn't show up on the weekend circuit.
Little Rock Pond is a one-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — the kind of pond that only shows up on detailed topo maps and rarely appears in trail guides. No fish data on record, no formal access trail that gets maintained or signed, and the size suggests it's more wetland margin than open water by midsummer. These small ponds are common in the working forests around Tupper: they're named, they're mapped, but they're not destinations unless you're bushwhacking with a GPS or hunting the edges in October. If you're looking for Little Rock Pond specifically, confirm access and ownership before heading in — much of this area is private timberland with gated roads.
Little Rock Pond is a six-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Tupper Lake township — small enough that it lives below the threshold of detailed recreation data, which usually means private-adjacent or set back from main trail corridors. No fish stocking records and no formal DEC access on file suggest this one stays quiet by default, not by design. In a region known for bigger, better-documented paddles like Simon Pond or Raquette River access points, Little Rock likely serves the landowner or the occasional bushwhacker more than the weekend visitor. If you're hunting it down, confirm access and boundaries before you walk in.
Little Shallow sits in the Raquette Lake township — seven acres, no fish stocking records, and a name that tells you exactly what you're getting. The pond is one of dozens of small, unmapped waters scattered through the working forest between the Blue Mountain Wild Forest and the old Raquette Lake Railway corridor, more likely reached by hunters during deer season than by summer paddlers. No maintained trail, no DEC campsite, no reason to seek it out unless you're already deep in the woods with a GPS track and a curiosity for off-list water. If you're looking for a destination pond in the Raquette Lake area, stick to the named chain lakes or the Blue Mountain Lake access points.
Little Sherman Pond is a 10-acre water tucked into the woods west of Schroon Lake village — small enough that it stays off most regional maps and quiet enough that you're likely fishing or paddling alone. No official state records on what swims here, which usually means native brookies or bass that wandered up from bigger water, but locals who know the access keep their reports to themselves. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and hemlock cover typical of the eastern Adirondacks — not dramatic terrain, but the kind of forested stillwater that rewards anyone willing to bushwhack or follow old logging traces. If you're looking for solitude within five miles of a grocery store, this is the template.
Little Simon Pond is a remote backcountry pond in the Dix Wilderness, accessed via unmarked routes requiring navigation skill. No maintained trail; anglers visit for native brook trout in water that sees minimal pressure.
Little Simon Pond sits in the northern Tupper Lake region — 145 acres of quiet water in a working forest landscape where access details shift with seasonal logging roads and private land agreements. The pond sits at the kind of low elevation where ice-out comes early and the water warms faster than the High Peaks drainages to the south, which generally means earlier insect hatches and warmer swimming by mid-June. No fish survey data on file with DEC, which usually signals either unstocked water or a pond that hasn't drawn enough angling pressure to warrant a biological inventory. Check current access with local outfitters or the Tupper Lake town office — this isn't trailhead-and-lean-to country.
Little Square Pond is a 75-acre link in the Fish Creek–Floodwood paddle route near Saranac Lake, accessible from the state campground. Bass and pike in calm water; shoreline sites available for paddlers working the network.
Little Square Pond is a 98-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — mid-sized by local standards, but light on public information and harder to pin down than the more trafficked destinations closer to NY-30 or NY-3. The name suggests a geometric shoreline, likely the product of beaver work or wetland fill that squared off the basin over time. No fish species on record, which typically means it's either overlooked by DEC survey crews or it doesn't hold a viable cold-water population — worth a speculative cast if you're in the area, but don't expect a destination fishery. Access details are sparse; if you're hunting it down, start with local topographic maps and be prepared to bushwhack or paddle in from a nearby connector.
Little Sucker Brook is a 30-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of those named waters that appears on the map but lacks the infrastructure or fish stocking records that pull consistent traffic. The name suggests it drains into a larger system (likely connecting to Raquette River drainage), but without maintained access or documented fishery data, it sits in that middle category: not remote enough to be a bushwhack destination, not developed enough to be a family picnic spot. These are the waters that locals know by happenstance — a grouse hunter's landmark, a canoe route checkpoint, a place you pass through rather than arrive at. If you're poking around the Tupper backcountry and stumble onto it, you'll have it to yourself.
Little Trout Pond sits northeast of Tupper Lake village in a low-elevation mixed forest — a 48-acre working-class pond that doesn't show up on many destination lists but holds its own as a quiet paddle or a place to drop a line without fighting for shoreline. The name suggests historic brook trout, though current stocking records are thin; the pond's shallow basin and organic bottom favor warmwater species more than cold-water trout in most seasons. Access details are local knowledge — ask at a Tupper Lake outfitter or the town DEC office before heading out. This is a pond that rewards showing up with low expectations and a canoe.
Little Weller Pond is a 12-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on radar but named enough to have earned its place in the DEC inventory. No fish stocking records on file, and no formal trails or lean-tos documented in the immediate vicinity, which suggests either private land complications or simply a pond that functions as backcountry margin rather than destination. The name implies a larger Weller somewhere nearby, but if it exists, it hasn't made it into the modern record. Worth checking local topo maps and the DEC Unit Management Plan for the area if you're chasing every named water in the region.
Little Wolf Pond is a 163-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — mid-sized by Adirondack standards, but far enough off the main tourist corridors that it rarely shows up in guidebooks or gets claimed by the Memorial Day crowd. The pond sits in working forest land, which typically means gated private roads or a longer paddle-in from a public launch point; access here is the kind of thing you confirm with a local or a DEC ranger before loading the canoe. No fish species data on file, which often signals light pressure or intermittent stocking — or both. Worth calling the Tupper Lake DEC office if you're planning a trip specifically for this water.
Livingston Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid corridor — small enough that it doesn't appear on most trail maps and rarely shows up in regional fishing or paddling logs. No fish species data on record, which typically means either unstocked and unsampled or too shallow and acidic to hold trout through summer — common for the smaller High Peaks waters tucked into spruce drainages. The name suggests private or semi-private history, and without public access information on file it's likely either landlocked by private parcels or accessible only by bushwhack. If you know the put-in, it's the kind of place you keep to yourself.
Lizard Pond is a 22-acre water tucked into the woods near Speculator — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, but large enough to feel like a destination if you're working the backcountry ponds in the southern Adirondacks. No fish data on record, which either means it's been overlooked by DEC surveys or it's too shallow and warm to hold trout through summer — a common story for ponds in this elevation band. Access details are scarce, likely a bushwhack or unmaintained path from one of the logging roads that web through this part of Hamilton County. If you're poking around the Route 8 / Route 30 corridor and want water that isn't on the weekend circuit, this is the kind of name worth investigating.
Loch Bonnie is a two-acre pond tucked into the Lake Placid township — small enough that it rarely appears on anything but the most detailed maps, and quiet enough that most visitors to the region never hear the name. The "Loch" suggests Scottish-influenced naming from the late 19th or early 20th century, when European placenames were in fashion across the Adirondacks, though the pond itself predates any romanticism. No fish species data on record, which typically means limited depth, heavy vegetation, or both — a place for dragonflies and wood frogs, not anglers. Worth tracking down if you're compiling a completist list of named waters in the Lake Placid corridor, but manage expectations accordingly.
Lockart Pond is a six-acre pond in the town of Keene — small enough that it doesn't pull the foot traffic of the named-peak destinations nearby, but large enough to hold water through a dry August. No fish species on record, which usually means it's either too shallow for consistent overwinter survival or it's simply been passed over by DEC survey crews in favor of more productive waters. The pond sits in mixed hardwood forest typical of the Keene valley floor — private land surrounds most small ponds in this area, so assume limited or no public access unless you've confirmed a trailhead or easement. Worth a knock on a door if you're looking for a quiet float; otherwise, this one stays off the typical paddler's map.
Lodo Pond is a remote backcountry pond in the High Peaks Wilderness, accessed via bushwhack from the Calamity Brook trail. No maintained path; navigate by map and compass for brook trout fishing in true solitude.
Lone Duck Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull recreational traffic, but named and mapped, which means it exists in the local geography as a known thing rather than a nameless wetland. No fish data on file, and at four acres it's more likely a seasonal brook trout holdover than a stocked destination. The name suggests either a lone-duck sighting that stuck in someone's memory, or the dry Adirondack humor that names half the ponds in the Park. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake backcountry and you find it, you've earned it.
Lone Pond is a 4-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it likely doesn't pull crowds, remote enough that it hasn't made it onto the standard fishing survey rotations. The name suggests isolation, and in the Raquette drainage that usually means old logging roads, blown-down blowdown, and a put-in that requires either a good map or a willingness to bushwhack. No fish species on record means either it doesn't hold fish or no one's reported catching them — both common in the smaller, shallower ponds that dot the interior. If you're heading that way, bring a topo and plan for solitude.
Lone Pond lives up to its name — a seven-acre body of water tucked into the working forest north of Tupper Lake village, far enough off the main corridor that most paddlers and anglers never make the list. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brookies if there's adequate depth and inlet flow, or nothing at all if it's shallow and low-oxygen. The surrounding timber is a mix of private holdings and state land; access depends on where the parcel lines fall and whether a woods road still punches through. If you're poking around this zone, confirm ownership and access with the DEC Ray Brook office before you bushwhack in.
Lonesome Pond lives up to its name — a 9-acre glacial bowl in the Indian Lake backcountry with no maintained trail access and no particular fishing reputation to draw a crowd. It sits in working forest, the kind of place you find on a topo map while planning a bushwhack or stumble into while hunting the ridges south of Cedar River. The water is dark, tannin-stained, ringed by softwood and blowdown; if there are brookies, they're small and scrappy, and no one's keeping records. This is old Adirondack remoteness — not scenic, not documented, just alone.
Long Pond sits in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — 19 acres of quiet water in a zone better known for reservoir recreation and seasonal camps than backcountry solitude. No fish species on record, which usually means either private access or enough angling pressure that DEC sampling hasn't justified stocking. The pond's position in the southern Adirondacks puts it outside the High Peaks corridor — less dramatic relief, more mixed hardwood and wetland edges, and a landscape shaped as much by 20th-century flood control as by glacial drift. If you're here, you're likely a local or you've followed a trail less traveled.
Long Pond sits northwest of Saranac Lake village — a 33-acre pond in a region dense with named waters but light on public information. No fish stocking records on file, no marked trails in the DEC inventory, and no nearby lean-tos or campsites in the usual registers. The pond likely sees local access and informal use, but without documented put-ins or maintained paths, it falls into that quiet category of Adirondack waters that exist on the map more than in the guidebooks. If you're planning a visit, start with the local DEC office or a Saranac Lake outfitter for current access intel.
Long Pond sits just outside Tupper Lake village — a 35-acre shallow-water pond with no formal trail access and no DEC records on fish populations, which usually means either private shoreline or a local-knowledge put-in that doesn't make the official listings. The name is common enough (there are at least eight Long Ponds in the Park) that this one tends to stay off the radar unless you're poking around the back roads north of town. Worth a phone call to a local tackle shop or the DEC Ray Brook office if you're trying to pin down access or whether it holds anything worth casting to.
Long Pond — 108 acres in the Long Lake township — sits in a cluster of smaller waters west of NY-30, the kind of pond that shows up on the DEC list but stays off most itineraries. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail marker on the map, no lean-to designation — which typically means local knowledge, a bushwhack, or a paddle-in from a connecting water. The name itself is common enough (a dozen Long Ponds scattered across the Park) that confirmation matters: this one anchors to the Long Lake region, distinct from the Long Pond near Newcomb or the one south of Tupper Lake. Worth a call to the Long Lake town office or the local DEC ranger if you're planning a visit.
Long Pond sits in the Indian Lake township — a 41-acre water in a region dense with ponds and working forestland, where named waters outnumber the people who fish them. No fish survey data on file with DEC, which in this part of the park usually means either the pond hasn't been stocked in decades or it holds wild brookies that nobody's bothered to document. Access details are scarce; if there's a formal trail it's not widely advertised, and most small ponds in this area are reached by old logging roads, compass work, or local knowledge passed along at the hardware store. Worth a call to the Indian Lake chamber or the local DEC office before you commit to the drive.
Long Pond is a 117-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — large enough to hold a shoreline but small enough that the name tells you what you need to know. No fish species data on file, which typically means it's been passed over for stocking or surveys in favor of more accessible or productive waters nearby. The pond sits in working forest country where dirt roads and private land complicate access — worth a closer look if you're already in the area with a canoe and a DEC road atlas, but not the kind of water that draws day-trippers from out of town. Check local access status before heading in.
Long Pond sits in the Tupper Lake Wild Forest — a 45-acre water in a region dense with ponds but light on published information. No fish stocking records on file, which in this part of the Park often means native brook trout or nothing at all. Access likely involves old logging roads or unmarked carries; the DEC Unit Management Plan is the starting point for anyone serious about fishing it. This is backcountry homework territory — not a trailhead-and-sign destination.
Long Pond — 22 acres in the Tupper Lake region — is one of dozens of small ponds scattered across the northwestern Adirondacks that share the name, making it more coordinate than destination. Without documented fish surveys or formal trail access, it sits in that middle category: not remote enough to be a backcountry objective, not developed enough to show up on the family-weekend checklist. Waters like this often hold brook trout by default and see more use from locals with a canoe and a truck than from through-hikers. If you're targeting Long Pond specifically, start with the DEC Unit Management Plan for the area — access is almost always old logging roads or informal paths that don't make it onto trail maps.
Long Pond sits in the Tupper Lake region as a 50-acre water with no recorded fish survey data — which usually means either the pond hasn't been stocked or sampled in recent decades, or it's a quiet beaver-meadow system that doesn't hold a recreational fishery. Without established access or designated campsites in the public record, this is likely a local or private-access pond rather than a backcountry destination. The Tupper Lake area holds dozens of similarly sized ponds scattered across working forest and conservation easement land — some paddleable, some not — and Long Pond falls into that category of waters better known to locals than the DEC trail map. If you're exploring off the main corridors, confirm access and ownership before you launch.
Long Pond is a four-acre water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it likely sits off the main chain-of-lakes corridor that defines paddling in the Fulton Chain area. No fish species on record, which in this region usually means it's either a shallow wetland feeder pond or a backwater that doesn't see stocking pressure. Without established trail or boat-launch data, this is the kind of water that shows up on the DEC Lake Survey list but stays off most paddlers' rotation — a named dot on the map, not a destination. Worth a look if you're sorting through Old Forge's secondary ponds for a quiet put-in, but confirm access and conditions locally before committing the drive.
Long Pond sits in the Brant Lake region — a 32-acre water with no DEC fish stocking records and no developed public access points on file, which typically means private shoreline or walk-in-only entry via unmarked woods roads. Waters like this often hold wild brook trout or yellow perch that never see a creel census, but without confirmed access it's a local-knowledge spot at best. The Brant Lake area skews toward private camps and seasonal cottages, so if you're not tied to a camp lease or a landowner handshake, Long Pond stays off the list. Worth a knock on a door if you're in the area and committed to exploring every named water in the region.
Long Pond stretches across 297 acres in the Keene town line — a mid-sized water without the High Peaks fanfare but with the elbow room that comes from being off the main corridors. The name shows up on multiple Adirondack maps (there are at least eight Long Ponds in the Park), so confirm you're looking at the Keene location before you commit to a route. No fish species data on file, which usually means limited stocking history or access challenges that keep angling pressure low. Worth cross-referencing with local DEC records or the town clerk if you're planning a trip — this one doesn't advertise itself.
Long Pond is a 14-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to be overlooked, common enough as a name to require context. Without public access data or fish survey records on file, it sits in that broad category of Adirondack ponds that are either private, difficult to reach, or both. The name appears on older USGS quads and in DEC wetland inventories, but it's not a trailhead destination or a stocked fishery. If you're tracking it down, confirm access and ownership before you walk in — many small ponds in this region are bounded by private land or require permission.
Long Pond — one of dozens in the park with that name — sits in the Indian Lake township, a 20-acre water in the southern-central Adirondacks where the terrain softens from High Peaks granite into rolling hardwood forest. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means unstocked, unmanaged, and either brook trout water or fishless depending on pH and inlet flow. Indian Lake the town is a chain-of-lakes hub (the hamlet sits on the lake of the same name), and the smaller ponds in the township tend to be either roadside access or short bushwhacks off seasonal logging roads. Worth a call to the Indian Lake outfitters or the town office if you're chasing a put-in — local knowledge fills the gaps that the trailhead signs don't.
Long Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Blue Mountain Lake township — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational planning, quiet enough that it stays off the casual paddler's radar. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means limited angling pressure and limited stocking history; worth a speculative cast if you're already in the area, but not a destination fishery. The pond sits in rolling mixed forest typical of the central Adirondacks — no dramatic relief, no named peaks within sight lines, no maintained trail infrastructure leading to the shore. Access details aren't documented in the standard guidebooks, which means either private land complications or unmapped Woods Department routes from an earlier era.
Long Pond sits in the Old Forge corridor — 145 acres of quiet water in a region better known for the Fulton Chain and high-season boat traffic. No fish species data on record, which usually means either nobody's reporting or nobody's asking — the kind of pond that gets passed over for the bigger-name waters a few miles west. Access details are thin, but in this part of the park that often means private shoreline or a forgotten DEC put-in off a seasonal road. Worth a call to the Old Forge visitor center if you're scouting flat water for a solo paddle or a mortgage-free afternoon.
Long Pond sits in the Tupper Lake region — 56 acres of water in a landscape defined more by working forests and private holdings than by trailhead signage and DEC markers. No fish species data on record, which often means either unstocked or simply under-documented; worth a call to the local DEC office or a conversation at the bait shop in town before you rig up. Access and shoreline status aren't widely published — assume gated timber roads or private land unless you confirm otherwise. If you're heading this way, cross-reference the parcel viewer and bring a good map.
Long Pond covers 250 acres on Floodwood Road and serves as the main entry point for St. Regis Canoe Area paddlers. Primitive campsites line the shore; smallmouth bass and northern pike hold in the narrow water.
Loomis Pond is a 32-acre water tucked in the Speculator region — small enough to feel isolated, big enough to paddle without looping back on yourself every ten minutes. No fish data on record, which typically means either unstocked or overlooked by DEC surveys; either way, it's not drawing fishing pressure. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor where most trail infrastructure and visitation concentrates, so expect quieter shorelines and less formal access — useful if you're looking to lose the weekend crowds without driving to the Western Adirondacks. Check local Forest Preserve maps for the nearest trailhead or bushwhack route.
Loomis Ponds sits in the Speculator region without much public data on record — no fish stocking reports, no DEC campsite markers, no trailhead signs pointing the way in. The 12-acre pond is small enough to fall between the cracks of the better-documented waters in this part of the southern Adirondacks, which means it's either privately held, landlocked by timber company gates, or simply overlooked in the regional inventory. Worth a call to the local DEC office in Northville if you're chasing obscure water in the area — they'll know if there's legal access and whether anyone's dropped a line in there lately.
Loomis Ponds sits in the low country west of Speculator — a pair of small connected basins that hold water through the summer and sit far enough off the main corridor that most traffic flows toward the better-known lakes to the east. The ponds drain south toward the Sacandaga drainage and are typical of the region's wetland-edge waters: shallow, tannic, buggy in June, and quiet by design. No fish data on record, which likely means either native brookies too small to register or none at all. Access is local-knowledge territory — dirt roads and informal routes that don't appear on the standard DEC trail maps.
Loon Hollow Pond is a 20-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — part of the sprawl of small ponds and wetlands that fill the low terrain west of the Fulton Chain. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means either sterile water or a pond that's simply too shallow and oxygen-poor to hold trout through summer. The name suggests historical loon activity, though loons tend to favor larger, deeper water with rocky shorelines and minimal human disturbance. Access details are sparse — likely a bushwhack or unmarked logging road approach rather than a maintained trail.
Loon Pond sits just outside the hamlet of Long Lake — 106 acres tucked into the working forest south of the main village corridor. No formal fish stocking records and no designated campsites, which keeps it quieter than the named trout waters nearby; locals know it as a morning paddle or a place to drop a canoe when the wind picks up on Long Lake proper. Access details are scarce in DEC records, but ponds of this size in the Long Lake township typically connect to the broader trail and old-road network that threads through this part of the central Adirondacks. Worth a stop at the Long Lake town office or the hardware store for current put-in directions.
Lost Pond is a small backcountry pond accessible via unmarked routes or bushwhack — no maintained trail leads directly to it. Quiet water, minimal traffic, and a test of navigation skill for those who seek it out.
Lost Pond — three acres, Keene — is one of dozens of small named waters in the northern Adirondacks that exist more as cartographic notation than destination. No documented fishery, no established trail system, no camping infrastructure. These ponds typically sit in second-growth mixed forest between the highway corridors and the High Peaks proper, accessible by bushwhack or old logging trace if you're inclined to find them. Worth knowing the name exists if you're studying a topo map; not worth banking a day trip on unless you're the sort who enjoys the hunt more than the arrival.
Lost Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it lives up to its name if you're not looking for it, and quiet enough that most people who pass through the area never make the effort. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail infrastructure, no lean-to — this is the kind of water that exists for its own sake, not for overnight trips or angling pressure. If you're in the area and have a free hour, it's worth the bushwhack for the solitude alone, but don't expect facilities or a well-worn path to the shore.
Lost Pond is a 10-acre water in the Long Lake town district — one of dozens of small, unmapped ponds scattered across the central Adirondacks that carry the name "Lost" for good reason. No maintained trail, no DEC campsite inventory, no angler reports in the stocking records — this is backcountry navigational work, not a family day hike. The name shows up on USGS quads and in old surveyor's notes, but access details are sparse and local knowledge is the currency. If you're heading in, bring a compass, a decent topo map, and the expectation that you'll have the place to yourself.
Lost Pond — seven acres, tucked into the working forest west of Raquette Lake village — carries the kind of name that usually means "road access but nobody bothers." No fish data on file, no formal trail marked on the DEC quad, which suggests either true backlot status or a pond that gets its visitors from the old logging road network rather than the trailhead parking lots. The Raquette Lake region is laced with ponds like this: small, unnamed on most maps until recently, better known by the families who've been launching canoes there since the 1960s than by the hiking public. If you're asking about Lost Pond, you probably already know how to get there.
Lost Pond — 28 acres in the Tupper Lake region — is one of dozens of small waters in the northern Adirondacks that carry the "Lost" name, a label that tends to mean either genuinely remote or simply tucked off the main corridors. Without fish stocking records or established access noted in the DEC inventory, this is likely a put-in-work pond: bushwhack navigation, possible beaver flooding, and the kind of solitude that comes from being overlooked rather than hidden. The northern lakes region is laced with old logging roads and informal approaches; if you're serious about reaching Lost Pond, start with the DEC Unit Management Plan for the area and a compass bearing.
Lost Pond lives up to its name — a 17-acre water tucked into the working forest west of Tupper Lake, off the radar of both the trail map and the stocking truck. No fish data on file, no marked trailhead, no lean-to — this is either a local spot accessed by private timber roads or a genuine bushwhack destination for someone with a topo map and a reason to be there. The name suggests it was named for being hard to find rather than for any geographic feature, which in the Tupper Lake wild lands is usually the truth. If you know how to get here, you already know what you're looking for.
Lost Pond is a 5-acre water in the Keene area — small enough that it sits off most trail maps and regional guides, and without recorded fish species data it's likely too shallow or too isolated to hold a fishable population. The name suggests it was once known, then forgotten — a pattern common to beaver ponds that shift in and out of existence, or to waters that served as landmarks for logging operations that have since grown over. If you know this pond, you likely found it by accident or by following a local's directions that started with "there's an old woods road..." Worth reporting back if you confirm access or find brookies.
Lost Pond lives up to its name — two acres tucked somewhere in the Tupper Lake township with no fish surveys on file and no formal trail record in the DEC inventory. It's the kind of water that shows up on a USGS quad but not in any paddling guide, likely landlocked by private timber company holdings or accessible only via bushwhack and local knowledge. Without stocking records or angler reports, it's either too shallow to hold trout year-round or simply too far off the grid to draw attention. If you know where it is, you probably already know whether it's worth the walk.
Lost Pond — three acres, somewhere in the sprawl of state land around Indian Lake — exists in the kind of cartographic limbo that defines a lot of small Adirondack water: named on the quad, no formal trail, no fish stocking records, no DEC campsite designation. It's the sort of place that gets visited by hunters in November, old-timers who grew up nearby, and the occasional wanderer with a USGS map and a compass who doesn't mind bushwhacking. Without nearby peaks or designated access, Lost Pond stays quiet by default — a dot on the map that rewards the effort only if you're already out there for other reasons.
Lost Pond sits in the High Peaks Wilderness, reached by a 0.3-mile spur from the trail between Indian Pass and Scott Clearing. Small and shallow, it holds brook trout and offers a quiet stop on longer through-hikes.
Lost Pond is a 6-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — one of dozens of small, unnamed-on-most-maps ponds scattered through the working forest and private parcels west of the Fulton Chain. No fish stocking records, no established public access, and no DEC trail leads to it — which means it lives up to its name for anyone without local beta or a landowner connection. In a region dense with accessible paddling (the Fulton Chain, North Lake, Moss Lake all within minutes), Lost Pond stays off the summer circuit by design. If you know how to reach it, you already know why it's worth the walk.
Lost Pond is a 30-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — quiet country east of I-87, where the ridgelines flatten and the paddling culture tilts toward canoes and family camps rather than trail miles. No fish data on file with DEC, which often signals limited access or marginal habitat, but ponds this size in the Paradox drainage tend to hold warmwater species if they're thermally suited. The name suggests either an old surveyor's note or the kind of local shorthand that sticks when a pond sits back from the road and doesn't make it onto the summer circuit. Worth checking county tax maps or the Paradox Lake Association for access intel if you're exploring the area.
Lost Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than anglers, and remote enough that current fish survey data is nonexistent. The name suggests either an early surveyor's oversight or a backcountry locals' nickname that stuck on the map, and ponds like this one tend to function more as wildlife corridors than recreation destinations. No maintained campsites, no stocked fish, no trail register at the trailhead. Worth noting on a bushwhack route or a topo exercise, but not a paddling objective unless you're already headed that direction for other reasons.
Lost Pond is a small backcountry pond in the High Peaks Wilderness, reached by a short spur from the Indian Pass Trail. The water sits in a glacial basin below Wallface Mountain — quiet, shallow, and reliably buggy from June through August.
