Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Mahan Pond is a one-acre pocket water in the Old Forge town sprawl — small enough that it barely registers on most recreation maps, but it's there, tucked into the working landscape between Route 28 corridor development and the larger Fulton Chain system to the north. No fish stocking records, no formal access points, no reason to paddle it unless you're cataloging every named water in Herkimer County or you live within sight of it. This is filler habitat — the kind of pond that exists because the glaciers left a depression and the alders filled in around it.
Makomis Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Keene town boundaries — small enough that it rarely shows up on regional fishing reports or trail maps, and remote enough that most through-hikers in the area never register it. No DEC fish stocking data on file, which usually means either wild brookies in low density or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown. The name itself — Makomis — carries Algonquian roots, though whether it references a historical figure or a landscape feature has been lost to local memory. If you're hunting it down, expect bushwhacking or an unmarked approach; this is old-map water, not trailhead water.
Marcy Dam Pond is a 5-acre pond at the High Peaks' busiest trail junction, where the original dam stood until Hurricane Irene took it in 2011. Wright Peak and Mount Phelps frame the water — a reliable vista on the way to Marcy, Algonquin, or the interior ranges.
Marie Louise Pond is a one-acre tarn tucked somewhere in the Keene region — small enough that it likely doesn't appear on most trail maps, and remote enough that it holds a name but no formal access or species data in the state records. Ponds this size in the Keene corridor are typically old logging-era holdovers or high-elevation seeps reached by bushwhack or forgotten spur trails, the kind of water you find by accident or long memory. If you know where it is, you're probably not looking for directions online.
Marion Pond is a 10-acre water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, large enough that it holds a defined shoreline and some depth. No fish species data on record, which typically means it's either unstocked and marginal habitat, or it's simply off the stocking and survey grid. Access and usage patterns aren't well-documented in the standard trail or DEC records, so if you're heading in, confirm current conditions and approach routes locally. Worth a look if you're already working the Schroon Lake backcountry and want to add a quiet pond to the route.
Marsh Pond is a six-acre backwater in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational inventories, which usually means either private shoreline or limited public access via unmarked woods roads. The name suggests wetland edges and shallow depths, the kind of pond that warms early in spring and holds bass or panfish if it holds anything at all. Without fish survey data or established trails in the record, this is a local-knowledge water — worth a look if you're already in the area with a canoe and a tolerance for bushwhacking, but not a destination paddle. Check town tax maps or ask at the regional DEC office in Warrensburg for current access status.
Marsh Pond is a 3-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it lives up to its name, likely rimmed with wetland vegetation and shallow enough to warm quickly in summer. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either marginal habitat or a pond that simply fell off the DEC rotation decades ago. Waters this size in the Tupper area often sit tucked between private parcels or logging roads, accessible but not advertised. If you're poking around dirt roads south or west of town and stumble onto it, expect lily pads, dragonflies, and the kind of quiet that comes with being too small to bother naming on most maps.
Marsh Pond is an 11-acre water tucked into the broader Lake Placid region — small enough to scan in a single glance, large enough to hold the quiet when you need it. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies if anything, or it's simply a wetland holding basin with beaver activity and seasonal depth. The name tells the story: expect soft edges, marsh grass, and the kind of shoreline that keeps casual visitors at a distance. Worth a look if you're already working through the area's less-trafficked ponds, but confirm access and conditions locally before committing to the bushwhack.
Marsh Pond is a four-acre water tucked in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it lives up to the name, with wetland edges and the kind of shallow, tea-colored water that keeps motorboats away and brookies scarce. No fish data on record, no marked trails leading to a put-in, and no development pressure to speak of — this is the category of Adirondack pond that stays quiet because there's no compelling reason to bushwhack in. If you're exploring by canoe from a nearby chain or doing wetland bird surveys, Marsh Pond is worth a look; otherwise, it's a dot on the map that earns its obscurity.
Marsh Ponds sits in the working forest northwest of Tupper Lake — 19 acres split into two connected basins, typical of the glacial kettle ponds that dot the mixed hardwood and spruce lowlands in this corner of the Park. Access depends on current timber company roads and easement status; this isn't trailhead country, and conditions change with active logging. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means shallow water, soft bottom, and better habitat for painted turtles than trout. If you're driving between Tupper and Cranberry Lake and see the name on a blue DEC sign, you're in the right drainage — but confirm access before you walk in.
Martin Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational maps and remote enough that access details are scarce in the public record. No fish stocking data, no marked trails, no DEC lean-tos within shouting distance. Ponds this size in the eastern Adirondacks are often walk-in affairs through private or posted land, or they're remnant beaver work that silts in over a decade and becomes a wetland margin by the next survey. If you're in the area and curious, check property lines and ask locally — Martin Pond isn't a destination, but it's on the map for a reason.
Marvin Pond is a small four-acre water tucked into the working forest northeast of Saranac Lake village — the kind of pond that doesn't show up on touring maps but holds a place in local knowledge as a put-in for canoes and a quiet spot when the bigger lakes get busy. No designated campsites, no fish stocking records, no trails marked on state maps — this is private-land access or bushwhack territory depending on which shoreline you approach. If you know how to get there, you already know why it matters. Check property lines and ask locally before launching.
Massawepie Pond — 19 acres tucked into the Bog River / Limekiln Lake corner of the western Adirondacks — is a working pond in the old sense: it's part of a cluster of waters (Massawepie Lake to the north, the Bog River flow system to the east) that saw serious logging traffic in the early 20th century and still carries the scars and access traces of that era. The name is Abenaki — "place of much water" — and the pond itself sits in low, marshy country where wetland fingers connect one basin to the next. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked brookies or nothing at all. Access from the Old Forge / Thendara corridor runs through a maze of seasonal roads and private inholdings — confirm access and parking before committing to the drive.
McBride Pond is an 8-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up on recreational lists, which usually means local knowledge and light pressure. No fish species on record with DEC, which could mean unstocked, unsampled, or simply off the stocking rotation; worth a call to the regional fisheries office if you're considering a paddle-and-cast trip. The acreage suggests a pond you'd explore in an hour or two by canoe, assuming you can find access — many of the smaller Tupper-area ponds sit on private land or require a woods walk from a nearby road. Check property lines before you go.
McCabe Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps, which usually means either private land or a seasonal wetland tucked into working forest. No fish species on record, no marked trail access, no public camping infrastructure. Waters this size in the Old Forge corridor tend to be headwater feeders or beaver-modified drainages rather than destinations — worth noting if you're studying watershed connections or doing wetland survey work, but not a place you'll find a put-in or a campsite.
McCauley Pond sits just outside Saranac Lake village limits — an 80-acre water that pulls locals for quiet-morning paddling and evening fishing without the drive to deeper backcountry. The shoreline holds a mix of private camps and undeveloped wetland, with access typically managed through town or informal put-ins rather than a formal DEC trailhead. It's the kind of pond that serves as a neighborhood resource more than a destination — close enough for a Tuesday evening paddle, big enough to feel like water rather than a wide spot in a stream. No fish species data on file, but ponds this size in the Saranac Lake corridor typically hold warmwater species and the occasional stocked trout.
McCavanaugh Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to fly under most paddlers' radar, quiet enough to keep it that way. No stocking records and no public access data in the DEC files, which usually means either private shoreline or a put-in that requires local knowledge and a willingness to bushwhack. The Tupper Lake area holds dozens of ponds like this one: tucked into working forest land, visible from a logging road or a high point, reachable if you know where to look. If you're determined to fish it, start with the town assessor's parcel map and a conversation at a local tackle shop.
McCuen Pond is a seven-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it doesn't anchor a trail system or appear on most recreational itineraries, but mapped and named, which usually means local knowledge and occasional use. No fish species data on record, which suggests either minimal stocking history or a pond that doesn't hold trout through summer drawdown. Without documented access or nearby peaks, this is likely a bushwhack or private-road destination — worth confirming land status and access rights before planning a trip. If you're working a topographic loop in the area, McCuen is the kind of unmarked stop that reveals itself only to people moving slowly with a map.
McDonald Pond sits in the Tupper Lake region at 77 acres — mid-sized water in a township where working forest and private holdings dominate the shoreline mosaic. No public access or fish stocking records on file, which typically means gated logging roads or grandfathered camps; the kind of pond that shows up on the DeLorme but not in the DEC launch inventory. If you're poking around the gravel roads west of Tupper Lake proper and see the name on a gate sign, assume it's spoken for. Worth a property-line check on the DEC land viewer before you bushwhack.
McGinnity Pond is a one-acre pocket of water in the Keene township — small enough that it likely sits on private land or tucked into forest where public access isn't formalized. No fish species data on record, which often means either seasonal warmth that won't hold trout or limited angler attention due to access constraints. Ponds this size in the Keene area typically function as drainage features or beaver-maintained wetlands rather than destination waters. If you know where it is, it's probably because you live within walking distance.
McKenzie Pond is a 241-acre water northwest of Saranac Lake village — large enough to hold serious water in a blow, tucked into working forest between the hamlet and the St. Regis Canoe Area. The pond sits in that middle ground of Adirondack access: not a roadside pull-off, not a backcountry destination, but the kind of water that requires asking around or studying the DeLorme for the put-in. No fish species data on file with DEC, which often means either it's been unstocked for decades or it holds wild populations that don't get surveyed — brook trout or yellow perch are the usual suspects in ponds this size at this elevation. Check with local outfitters in Saranac Lake for current access and whether it's worth the paddle.
Meadow Pond is a 14-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to hold no formal fish records and obscure enough that it doesn't appear on most hiking itineraries. The name suggests wetland margins and shallow water, the kind of pond that warms early in spring and draws moose, beaver, and the occasional paddler willing to portage through brush for solitude. Without designated access or nearby peaks to anchor it, Meadow Pond exists in that middle category of Adirondack waters: known by name, visited by few, left mostly to the animals. Check local DEC maps or ask at a Saranac Lake outfitter for current access routes — if the pond sees regular use, someone in town will know the approach.
Medbury Pond is a 10-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake town corridor — small enough to be overlooked on the regional lake maps, quiet enough to matter if you're the one who finds it. No fish stocking records on file, no marked trailhead signage, no DEC campsites — which means it's either strictly private, landlocked by commercial timber parcels, or accessible only by someone who knows the old skidder roads. If you're poking around the Township 6 / Piercefield area and see a turnoff, ask locally before you walk in.
Meister Pond is a seven-acre water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational radar, but mapped and named, which usually means private access or a local put-in known to year-round residents more than seasonal visitors. No fish data on file with DEC, which tracks with ponds this size in working forest or residential zones where stocking and surveys don't justify the effort. Old Forge proper sits in a web of interconnected waters — the Fulton Chain, Nick's Lake, the Moose River — so a pond this size typically lives in the margins, either a backwater arm of a larger system or a landlocked basin tucked into second-growth pine and hardwood between camps.
Metcalf Chain of Lakes sits in the low country south of Speculator — a small network of ponds that barely registers in the regional fishing reports but holds water quietly enough for anyone looking to paddle without a permit queue. The 14-acre designation likely refers to the largest pond in the chain; the actual complex spreads through mixed hardwood and wetland with limited shore access and minimal signage from nearby forest roads. This is the kind of water that gets fished by someone's cousin who knows where to park, not by guidebook traffic. No stocking records, no DEC campsite markers — just beaver work, shallow bays, and the occasional local who'd rather you didn't ask for directions.
Metcalf Chain of Lakes is a cluster of small ponds south of Speculator — six acres on the map, though that likely counts only the largest basin in what reads more like a wetland complex than a traditional Adirondack pond. Access details are scarce, and the name suggests private holdings or landlocked parcels common in this stretch of southern Hamilton County. No fish stocking records, no marked trailheads, no nearby peaks to anchor a day trip — this is working forest country, not hiking destination. If you're poking around the area, confirm access and ownership before heading in.
Metcalf Chain of Lakes is a 4-acre pond in the Speculator region — part of the scattered network of small waters west of NY-30 that don't appear on most recreational maps but hold their place in the backcountry quietly. The "chain" designation suggests connectivity with neighboring ponds, typical of this glacially scoured plateau where wetlands and shallow basins trade water through beaver channels and seasonal streams. No fish species on record, which usually means either unstocked headwater habitat or limited access keeping angler pressure (and DEC survey effort) to near zero. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip — many small ponds in this area sit on private timber company land or require navigation through working forest roads.
Mica Lakes — a pair of small ponds tucked in the low country west of Speculator — sit quiet in a region better known for lakefront development than backcountry isolation. The combined surface runs about 14 acres; no fish stocking records, no maintained trails listed on current DEC maps, no nearby trailhead infrastructure to speak of. This is old working forest — second-growth hardwoods, logging roads grown over, the kind of water you find by studying the quad map and walking in on your own compass bearing. Access details are scarce enough that anyone heading in should expect to navigate by topo and not by trail signs.
Mica Lakes — a three-acre pocket in the Speculator region with no fish stocking record and no mapped trail access — lives in that category of Adirondack waters you'd only find by accident, local knowledge, or serious bushwhacking. The name suggests old mica mining activity in the area, though no documented claims are tied directly to the pond itself. Without maintained trails or campsites, this is strictly off-grid water: bring a topo, a compass, and reasonable expectations. If you're looking for solitude that comes with genuine effort, this is the kind of destination that delivers it.
Middle Cat Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a waypoint or bushwhack objective than as a destination fishery or paddling trip. No fish species data on file, and no formal trails or maintained access in the immediate area; this is backcountry that rewards a map, a compass, and realistic expectations about what seven acres of remote Adirondack water can offer. The name suggests it sits between other features in a cluster — Upper Cat and Lower Cat, presumably — but without established routes, getting there means navigating by terrain and old logging roads. For most paddlers and anglers, this one stays theoretical.
Middle Flow is a 19-acre pond in the Great Sacandaga Lake watershed — one of those small back-pocket waters that exists more as a local reference point than a destination. No public access data on file, no fish stocking records, no named trails leading in — which usually means either private shoreline or a bushwhack approach through lowland mixed forest. Waters like this tend to show up on survey maps and in the state's geographic inventory without much follow-through; if you're determined to fish it, expect to work for it. Check property lines before you go.
Middle Pond is a small backcountry water in the St. Regis Canoe Area, reached by a short carry from Upper St. Regis Lake. No motorized access; paddlers use it as a link in multi-day canoe routes through the wilderness chain.
Middle Pond sits in the working-forest country south of Tupper Lake — 62 acres of water in a landscape defined more by logging roads and private timber holdings than by marked trail systems or state campgrounds. Access details here are fluid: what's open-gate this season may be gated next, and the DEC doesn't maintain formal put-ins or camping infrastructure the way it does on more heavily visited waters. The pond itself holds water, holds fish (though no species surveys are on record), and sits far enough off the main tourism corridors that it rewards locals and canoeists willing to do their own navigation homework. Call the regional DEC office in Ray Brook before planning a trip — access here is a conversation, not a trailhead sign.
Middle South Pond is a 44-acre water tucked into the Old Forge tract — part of the sprawling state forest mosaic west of the Fulton Chain, where ponds outnumber trails and most access is by old logging road or bushwhack. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing at all; worth a scouting trip if you're already working the area. The name suggests it's one of several South Ponds in the vicinity — a common naming pattern in this corner of the park, where survey crews ran out of imagination before they ran out of water. Expect quiet, expect solitude, and bring a GPS unit.
Midget Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that if you're looking at it, you either stumbled onto it or you meant to be there. No fish data on record, which at this acreage usually means shallow, weedy, or both — the kind of pond that matters more to the watershed than to the angler. Worth noting if you're hunting vernal pools or doing wetland inventory work, otherwise a dot on the map that stays a dot.
Mikes Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it likely sees more use from whoever owns the nearest camp than from the paddling public. No fish species on record, no nearby peaks, no formal access noted in state records — the kind of named water that exists more as a property landmark than a recreation destination. In a region dense with larger, road-accessible ponds (Fourth Lake is two miles west, the Fulton Chain stretches north), Mikes Pond holds its obscurity honestly. If you're on it, you either own shoreline or you bushwhacked in with a reason.
Mile Pond is a ten-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that the name likely describes the distance to something (a road, a bigger lake, a trailhead) rather than anything about the pond itself. No fish species on record, which in this part of the park usually means either private land with limited access or a shallow basin that doesn't hold trout through summer. Without documented public access or nearby trails, this is one to note on the map but not to plan a trip around unless you're working local knowledge or own adjacent property.
Military Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it shows up on few maps and draws almost no traffic beyond snowmobilers and locals who know the unmarked woods roads in. No public access point to speak of, no trail register, no fish stocking records in the DEC files. It sits in the working forest between Long Lake village and the bigger named waters to the north — functional Adirondack backcountry, not a destination. If you're here, you either own land nearby or you took a wrong turn.
Military Pond is a 22-acre water in the Keene town limits — a name that suggests Civil War-era history or surveyor's nomenclature, but the record is thin and the pond keeps a low profile in the drainage between Hurricane Mountain and the Ausable valley. No fish stocking data on file, no marked trailhead in the DEC inventory, and no lean-to or designated campsite in the immediate shed. It's the kind of pond that shows up on the topo but not in the trip reports — either private-adjacent, bushwhack-access, or simply passed over in a region dense with bigger, better-documented options.
Mill Pond sits just off NY-73 south of Keene — a shallow, reedy 51-acre water that most people pass without noticing on the way to the higher-drama climbs and ponds farther up the valley. The pond has gone quiet in recent decades: no official fish survey data, no maintained access, no reason to stop unless you're curious about the kind of lowland wetland that once fed local mills and now feeds wood ducks and herons instead. It's the Adirondack water that doesn't ask for attention — a placeholder on the map between the trailheads people actually use. Worth a glance from the road if you're into wetland birding; otherwise, keep driving toward Chapel Pond or the Ausable Club lots.
Miller Pond is a one-acre pocket tucked into the southern Adirondack foothills near Lake George — small enough that it doesn't appear on many trail maps, and likely private or landlocked without documented public access. Waters this size in the Lake George region are often remnants of old beaver work or spring-fed depressions that hold through summer, more significant as wetland habitat than as paddling or fishing destinations. No fish species data on record, which tracks for a pond this small and potentially ephemeral. If you're hunting micro-ponds in this zone, confirm access and ownership before setting out — most one-acre waters here are bordered by private land.
Millman Pond is an 8-acre water in the Brant Lake region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational lake maps, which usually means either private shoreline or minimal public access infrastructure. The pond sits in the southeastern Adirondacks where named waters tend to be either resort-destination lakes (Brant, Schroon) or tucked-away ponds like this one that serve as local reference points more than paddling destinations. No fish species data on record, which often correlates with limited stocking history or seasonal oxygen turnover in shallow ponds. If you're looking for a day on the water in this area, Brant Lake itself — three miles long, public launch, largemouth and smallmouth bass — is the regional anchor.
Mink Pond is a 136-acre water in the southern Adirondacks near Indian Lake — large enough to paddle but off the main recreational corridor, which keeps it quiet even in summer. No fish stocking records on file, and no formal DEC access or maintained trail system documented, so this is likely private-access or bushwhack territory unless you know a local put-in. The acreage suggests decent open water for a canoe or kayak if you can get to it — southern Adirondack ponds of this size tend to have soft shorelines, shallow bays, and beaver activity rather than the rocky drama of the High Peaks zone. Worth a conversation with the Indian Lake town office or a local outfitter before you load the boat.
Minnow Pond is a 17-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to slip past notice on most maps, large enough to hold a paddler's interest for an hour or two. The name suggests brook trout habitat, but no species data is on record; likely it's either unstocked and fished-out, or holding a modest population of wild brookies that never made it into DEC surveys. Without established trail access or nearby peaks, this is the kind of pond that rewards local knowledge — ask at a Tupper Lake bait shop or the town clerk's office for access details. Seventeen acres means you can see the whole thing from any point on the water.
Minnow Pond sits on 108 acres in the Blue Mountain Lake township — a mid-sized backcountry pond without the trail traffic or the storied trout fishery that defines waters closer to the High Peaks or the Fulton Chain. The name suggests baitfish abundance, and the lack of stocking records means this is either overlooked, access-limited, or holding native populations that haven't made it onto DEC survey lists. Blue Mountain Lake as a region pulls most visitors to the lake itself and the Adirondack Museum; Minnow Pond remains in that second tier of waters where solitude is the primary feature. Worth a map check for put-in options if you're already in the area with a canoe.
Minnow Pond is a nine-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it lives up to the name, remote enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational radars. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail markers leading in, no lean-tos or designated campsites in the immediate surround. It's the kind of pond that appears on the topo map as a blue dot with a label, gets paddled once a season by someone who bushwhacked in from a nearby logging road, and otherwise sits quiet. If you're looking for it, start with the local DEC office or the Long Lake town clerk — they'll know which unmaintained access points are still passable.
Mitchell Ponds — four acres tucked somewhere in the Blue Mountain Lake township — sits in that category of Adirondack waters where the name exists on older maps but the access details have gone quiet. No fish stocking records, no marked trailhead in the DEC inventory, no lean-to or campsite in the usual registers. It's the kind of spot that shows up in a land survey or a local's directions but rarely in a trip report — either landlocked by private parcels, grown in at the shoreline, or simply remote enough that paddlers and anglers have better options within a mile. If you're driving through Blue Mountain Lake and see the name on a sign, you've found more than most.
Mitchell Ponds is a 41-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — one of those mid-sized ponds that holds its own fishing and paddling audience but doesn't draw the roadside crowds. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either light stocking history or catch reports that never made it into the system; locals with a canoe and a morning free will know more than the database does. The ponds sit far enough off the main corridors that you're not sharing the shoreline with through-hikers or day-trippers — just you, the water, and whatever's rising at dawn. Access details vary year to year; check with the town or a regional paddling outfitter for current put-in conditions.
Monday Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sits off the main recreational radar, with no fish stocking records on file and no formal trail system documented in the DEC inventory. Ponds this size in the Saranac Lake Wild Forest corridor are often old logging flowages or natural depressions that filled in after the last ice age, accessible by bushwhack or forgotten tote roads if you're willing to navigate by topo map. Without maintained access or a trout population, Monday Pond is the kind of water that stays quiet by default — a place for explorers with a compass, not a destination for weekenders with a canoe rack.
Moody Pond is a 26-acre water tucked into the woods near Saranac Lake — small enough to stay off most touring circuits, large enough to hold its own shoreline character. No fish stocking records on file, which often means either native brookies that nobody's bothered to survey or a pond that winters too hard for consistent holdover. Access details are sparse in the DEC database, suggesting either private land complications or a bushwhack approach; worth checking the local ranger station or the Adirondack Chapter of the Nature Conservancy for current status. The name suggests either a temperamental water level or a 19th-century landowner with a disposition to match.
Moonshine Pond is a 22-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radar, large enough to hold a morning's worth of shoreline exploration. The name suggests bootlegger history (common enough in the backcountry during Prohibition), but no documented stories survive in the local record. No fish surveys on file with DEC, which typically means limited access, shallow thermocline, or both — though brook trout have a way of showing up in remote Adirondack ponds regardless of stocking history. Worth a look if you're already in the Long Lake area and hunting for solitude over trophy fishing.
Moose Mountain Pond is a 35-acre water tucked into the Paradox Lake region — quiet, lightly visited, and off the main recreational corridors that pull traffic toward the High Peaks or Lake George. The pond lacks the infrastructure (lean-tos, marked trails, stocked fish) that defines the DEC's higher-profile waters, which keeps it in that second tier of Adirondack ponds: known to locals, overlooked by most visitors, and worth the effort if you're already in the area. No fish species data on record, which usually means limited angling pressure or natural reproduction that hasn't warranted surveys. Access details are sparse — assume bushwhacking or unmaintained wood roads unless you're working from a local tip.
Moose Pond is a 51-acre water in the Indian Lake town cluster — one of several mid-sized ponds scattered through the working forest west of Indian Lake village and south of the Cedar River Flow. The pond sits in low-relief country: no dramatic peaks, no rock ledges, just spruce and hardwood shoreline and the kind of water that holds its ice late and warms slowly. Access typically means navigating private timber company roads or longer paddle routes from more established put-ins — this is scout-it-yourself territory, not trailhead-and-sign country. No fish data on file, which usually means limited angler pressure and a pond that fishes how it fishes.
Moose Pond sits just off NY-30 south of the Long Lake hamlet — 183 acres tucked between the highway and the forested ridges to the west, visible from the road but surprisingly underused given its size and proximity to town. The shoreline is largely wooded with mixed hardwoods and conifers; no formal public boat launch, but locals know the informal put-ins for canoes and kayaks. The pond sees more paddlers than anglers — no recent fish species data on record, and the fishing pressure reflects that. On summer weekends it's a quiet alternative to the main body of Long Lake, which funnels most of the motorboat traffic.
Moose Pond sits just west of Long Lake village — a 238-acre water tucked between NY-30 and the northern wilderness boundary, close enough to town to feel accessible but far enough off the main corridor to shed the summer traffic. The pond is named for what you'd expect, and the boggy shoreline along the northern arm holds the kind of habitat that makes dawn and dusk worth the wait. No fish data on record, which in Long Lake terms usually means limited stocking history and marginal holdover conditions — this is moose country, not trout country. Access details are sparse; local knowledge still runs the show here.
Moose Pond is a 26-acre water just outside Lake Placid village — close enough to the Olympic complex that you can hear the bobsled run on a quiet winter morning, but far enough off the main corridors that it holds its privacy. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and hemlock, shallow enough to warm by mid-June and ringed by private parcels that keep public access minimal. No fish data on file, which usually means it's either stocked irregularly or not at all — worth a call to the Ray Brook DEC office if you're planning to wet a line. A local spot, mostly — the kind of water that shows up in conversation but not on trail maps.
Moose Pond is a 201-acre water northeast of Saranac Lake village — one of several mid-sized ponds in the working forest corridor between the village and the northern High Peaks. The pond sits in private timberland with limited public access, part of the patchwork of club waters and easement lands that define this section of the park. No formal boat launch or DEC campsite here — this is a paddle-in or hike-in proposition if you can arrange access, and the kind of water that stays quiet even in July. No fish species data on file, but ponds of this size and depth in this zone typically hold brookies or stocked rainbows.
Moose Pond is a 24-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel like you've left the main corridor. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means it's either stocked intermittently or not managed for angling at all; locals might know otherwise. The Old Forge area runs dense with named ponds and unmaintained connectors, so if access isn't obvious from a boat launch or a marked trailhead, assume it's a bushwhack or a local's route. Worth a knock on the door at an outfitter in town — they'll know if it's swimmable, fishable, or just a quiet paddle with a thermos.
Moose Pond is a 75-acre paddle-only pond north of Bloomingdale, part of the Saranac Lake Wild Forest. Native brook trout and minimal shoreline development — quiet water for canoes, with trailhead access off Moose Pond Road.
Moosehead Pond is a 60-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — quiet, off the main recreation corridors, and not heavily trafficked compared to the ponds closer to the Saranac chain or the High Peaks. No fish species data on record, which usually means it's either been overlooked or stocked inconsistently; worth a check with the local DEC office if you're planning a fishing trip. The name suggests moose habitat, and the Tupper Lake backcountry still sees occasional moose traffic, especially in the marshier lowlands where ponds like this sit. Access details are thin — if you know the put-in or the approach, you're probably already local.
