Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
Mosquito Pond is a seven-acre water tucked somewhere in the Long Lake township — small enough that it likely sits off-trail or behind private land, and obscure enough that DEC fish stocking records show no species data. The name suggests a seasonal beaver meadow or a boggy shoreline pond that never made it onto the paddling circuit, the kind of water that shows up on the quad map but not in any guidebook. If you're poking around the back roads or logging trails west of Long Lake village and you find it, you've earned it. Bring bug spray.
Mud Pond — all 60 acres of it — sits in the Long Lake township, one of dozens of small waters scattered across the central Adirondacks that share the name and the tannin-stained character that comes with it. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means shallow water, soft bottom, and better frog habitat than trout habitat. The lack of nearby trail infrastructure or maintained access suggests this is either a bushwhack destination or a local-knowledge paddle-in from a connector creek — worth confirming access rights and navigability before committing to the trip. Central Adirondack mud ponds like this one tend to be still, warm, and quiet by midsummer: more dragonflies than day-hikers.
