Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Lake Andrew is a 17-acre pond in the Long Lake town sprawl — one of the smaller named waters in a township defined by its namesake 14-mile lake and the string of ponds that connect it to the Raquette River corridor. No fish survey data on file with DEC, which usually means limited angler pressure and limited access, though the acreage suggests it's more than a beaver flow. Long Lake's quieter ponds tend to sit tucked behind private camps or require a put-in you need to know about; Lake Andrew fits that pattern. If you're poking around the back roads west of NY-30, it's worth a look — but confirm access before you haul a canoe.
Latham Pond is a nine-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it rarely shows up on regional recreation lists, quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, no established trails marked on the DEC inventories, no lean-tos or formal access points in the surrounding state land databases. It's the kind of water that exists in the gaps between the mapped-and-managed spots — worth knowing about if you're already in the area and looking for stillness, but not a destination unto itself. Check the town or local outfitters for easement or informal access; some of these small ponds have old logging roads or shoreline permission that isn't advertised.
Lilypad Pond is a 31-acre water in the Long Lake township — small enough to be out of the spotlight, large enough to hold a few quiet hours in a canoe or kayak. The name telegraphs the obvious: expect a soft-edged pond with vegetation working its way in from the margins, the kind of place that fishes better early season before the pads thicken. No fish species data on record, which in the Long Lake region often means unstocked and undersampled rather than fishless — worth a cast with a streamer or a popper if you're already here. Access details aren't widely documented, so confirm put-in options locally before making the drive.
Little Charley Pond is a 23-acre pocket of water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull traffic from the main corridor, quiet enough that it holds its character through summer. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing, and no formal trails indexed to the pond itself, so access is either by local knowledge or bushwhack. Waters like this one tend to show up in older surveyor maps and hunting camp logs more than they do in current guidebooks. Worth asking at a Long Lake tackle shop if you're curious — someone will know the approach.
Little Marsh Pond is a one-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it lives somewhere in the catalog-everything category of named Adirondack waters rather than the go-there-on-purpose category. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no DEC campsite — the kind of pond that shows up on the topo as a blue dot and stays that way unless you're hunting grouse in the surrounding hardwoods or cross it by accident on a compass bearing. If it holds any brook trout, they're wild, stunted, and unconfirmed. Worth knowing it exists if you're plotting bushwhacks in the Long Lake backcountry, but not worth the drive if you're looking for water to fish or a place to pitch a tent.
Little Moose Pond — 10 acres tucked in the Long Lake township, name recognition lower than most waters in this part of the central Adirondacks. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail Intel in the DEC inventory, which typically means either private-land access or a bushwhack-only proposition. Worth a call to the Long Lake town office or a conversation at the general store if you're chasing unmapped water in the area — local knowledge still travels by word of mouth here. If you're after solitude and can confirm the access, 10 acres is small enough to fish from shore in an afternoon.
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.
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 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.
Lower Cat Pond is an 11-acre pocket tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, large enough that it holds water through dry summers and registers on the old survey maps. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no lean-to — this is the kind of water that shows up in deed descriptions and on paddlers' mental lists of "ponds I've passed but never stopped at." The name suggests an Upper Cat Pond somewhere upstream, but the naming logic of these old working-forest waters doesn't always survive into the present. Best guess for access: private logging roads or a bushwhack off a larger route — check current ownership and ask locally before heading in.
Lower Moose Pond is a 21-acre pond in the Long Lake region — one of those mid-sized waters that sits off the primary recreation corridors and doesn't show up in the DEC stocking reports. No fish data on file, which usually means it's either a headwater pond with uncertain winter oxygen levels or it's simply never been surveyed in any systematic way. The name suggests it's part of a cluster — there's often an Upper Moose or a Moose River connection nearby — but without a formal access trail or a lean-to pulling traffic, this one stays quiet. Worth checking the Long Lake town maps or asking at the hardware store if you're looking for something genuinely off-roster.
