Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Lilypad Pond sits in the Raquette Lake township — a 40-acre pocket water whose name telegraphs the shoreline conditions by midsummer. No fish data on record, which typically means it's either too shallow, too weedy, or too acidic to support a standing population, though beaver activity can change that equation season to season. The pond is part of the broader Raquette Lake drainage, where dozens of small ponds and wetlands feed the lake system through a network of low-gradient streams and seasonal channels. Access details are sparse — if you're headed in, expect bushwhacking or a paddle-in approach from connected water.
Lilypad Ponds is a two-acre water tucked somewhere in the Raquette Lake township — the kind of small pond that shows up on a topo map but rarely gets a trail sign or a mention in guidebooks. The name suggests a shallow basin with emergent vegetation, likely beaver-maintained, and the modest acreage means it's more backcountry detour than destination. No fish species data on record, which typically indicates limited public access or minimal angling pressure — or both. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake drainage on foot, it's worth a compass bearing; otherwise, this one stays quiet.
Lilypad Ponds sits in the Raquette Lake wild forest — 23 acres split across multiple small basins, connected by shallow channels and doing exactly what the name suggests by mid-July. Access is rough: no maintained trail, no DEC signage, and the approach involves either a long paddle from Raquette Lake proper or a bushwhack from the nearest logging road. No fish data on record, which usually means limited access has kept it off the stocking rotation — though brookies sometimes work their way into these backwater systems on their own. This is a pond for the paddler who likes a map, a compass, and no company.
Little Chief Pond is a six-acre water tucked somewhere in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it rarely pulls focus from the bigger names in the area, and remote enough that it doesn't show up on the standard paddling or fishing circuits. No fish species data on record, which usually means it's either unstocked, prone to winterkill, or simply hasn't been surveyed in decades. The name suggests old mapping convention or a long-gone local reference, but the pond itself stays quiet — the kind of water you'd stumble across on a bushwhack or find noted in the margins of a vintage USGS quad. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a visit.
Little Duck Pond is a two-acre pocket tucked into the sprawl of forest east of Raquette Lake — small enough that it rarely appears on recreation maps and quiet enough that it holds that status by design. No formal access, no stocked fish, no DEC campsites — this is the kind of water you find by accident or by studying the blue splotches on a topo map and wondering what's out there. It's the Raquette Lake region in miniature: thousands of acres of working forest, private inholdings, and unmapped ponds that predate the trail system by a century. If you're looking for Little Duck, you're probably already lost — or exactly where you want to be.
Little Five sits north of Raquette Lake proper in a cluster of small ponds and wetlands—part of the braided waterway network that makes the Raquette drainage more maze than map. At five acres it's barely large enough to paddle across, and access means either a long bushwhack or threading through neighboring ponds by canoe if water levels cooperate. No fish records on file, no maintained trails, no reason to go unless you're the type who catalogs every named water or you're exploring the backcountry by boat with time to spare. The kind of pond that stays quiet because it requires effort with no particular reward at the end.
Little High Pond is a 14-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up in conversation but big enough to hold your attention if you're the type who measures a good day by how few people you see. No fish data on record, which means either it's not stocked and doesn't hold wild populations, or it's simply too out-of-the-way for DEC survey work to prioritize. The name suggests elevation, and in this part of the Park that usually means either a ridge-top kettle pond or a glacial scoop above a larger drainage. Expect bushwhack or unmaintained trail access — this is Raquette Lake backcountry, not a trailhead-and-mileage kind of place.
Little Lilly Pad Pond is an 18-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough to be overlooked, large enough to hold its own quiet. The name suggests what you'd expect: lily pads in the shallows, probably beaver activity, the kind of pond that stays off most hiking itineraries but rewards anyone who finds it. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked and unfished or too shallow and weedy to hold trout through summer. Access and ownership details aren't well documented — worth checking current DEC records or a local outfitter before planning a visit.
Little Otter Pond is a nine-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational lake surveys and isolated enough that access details are scarce in the public record. The name suggests proximity to the Otter Brook drainage system that feeds into Raquette Lake proper, but without maintained trail or boat access documented, this one likely stays quiet by default. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either it's been unstocked long enough that records lapsed or it's shallow enough that winterkill keeps populations inconsistent. Worth asking locals in Raquette Lake village if you're hunting for a bushwhack objective.
Little Rock Pond sits in the Raquette Lake township — a 75-acre water in a region thick with named ponds, where the real estate is more likely to be private camps than public shoreline. The pond name shows up on the DEC inventory but not in the lean-to-and-trailhead literature, which typically means limited or informal access and a local-knowledge situation rather than a marked trailhead off a numbered route. In this part of the Adirondacks, water access often runs through the hamlet of Raquette Lake itself or requires a paddle-in from one of the bigger connected waters. No fish data on file with DEC — a gap that tends to track with limited angler traffic or catch-and-release brookies too small to bother reporting.
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.
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.
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 Ponds — fourteen acres tucked into the Raquette Lake Wild Forest, nameless enough to suggest either a surveyor's placeholder or the kind of location that gets claimed quietly and stays that way. No fish stocking records, no marked trail on the DEC maps, no trailhead parking with a brown sign. The ponds sit in low country west of Raquette Lake proper, accessible by bushwhack or old logging trace depending on how much you trust your topo skills and how committed you are to finding water that doesn't show up on every paddler's shortlist. Bring a compass and realistic expectations about what "Lost" means.
Louie Pond is a 24-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough to hold a quiet afternoon, large enough to paddle without circling back on yourself in ten minutes. No formal fish stocking records and no designated campsites, which means it sees far less pressure than the bigger named waters in the Raquette drainage. Access typically involves either a bushwhack or a private-land approach — confirm ownership and permissions before heading in. Worth checking with local outfitters or the DEC Ray Brook office for current access intel.
Lower Brown Tract Pond sits at the southwest edge of the Raquette Lake watershed — a quiet, undeveloped 157-acre pond that sees a fraction of the traffic that Big Moose and Eagle Lake pull from NY-28. Access is by paddle or bushwhack; no maintained trail runs to the shoreline, and the surrounding state land keeps the experience backcountry-quiet. The pond drains north into the Brown Tract Inlet, which feeds into Raquette Lake proper, making it a logical extension for canoeists working the Raquette Lake / Forked Lake water trail system. No fish data on record, but the tannic water and wooded shoreline suggest brook trout habitat if the inlet holds cold enough flow.
