Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Antediluvian Pond — 23 acres in the Long Lake township — carries one of the more memorable names in the Adirondack water inventory, though the access and fishing details remain thin in the record. The pond sits off the main corridor, outside the typical loop of paddling routes and trailhead networks that define the central Long Lake region. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked and unsampled or too remote to justify the survey work. Worth a map check if you're plotting something deep in the Long Lake wild forest blocks — sometimes the best ponds are the ones without the backstory.
Arbutus Pond is a 121-acre water in the Long Lake township — large enough to hold some depth and structure, but off the main corridor and quiet for it. No fish data on record with DEC, which usually means either unstocked and unfished or holding wild brookies that nobody's bothered to survey; either way, it's not a destination fishery. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and conifer cover typical of the central Adirondacks — the kind of water that gets paddled by people staying nearby but rarely sought out from distance. Worth checking local access in Long Lake village; some township waters have informal launch points that aren't marked on the state maps.
Bear Pond stretches 132 acres in the Long Lake township — remote enough that access details aren't codified in the standard trail guides, and large enough that it's not a backcountry secret. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unmanaged wild brookies or water too shallow and weedy to hold trout year-round. The pond sits in the working forest west of the Long Lake hamlet, where old logging roads and private inholdings complicate public access — check with the Long Lake town office or local outfitters before planning a trip. If you're already on the water by canoe from Long Lake proper, Bear Pond may connect via seasonal wetland channels depending on spring runoff.
Beaver Flow sits in the Long Lake township — a 101-acre impoundment shaped by beaver activity rather than glacial scour, which makes for shallow water, drowned timber, and a shoreline that shifts with dam maintenance. No fish data on record, which usually means either limited angling pressure or periodic winterkill in shallow flowages like this. Access details are scarce in the public record, suggesting either private land barriers or a put-in that requires local knowledge — worth a stop at the Long Lake town office or a conversation at the boat launch if you're hunting new water. Flowages this size in the central Adirondacks tend to fish best in spring before the weeds take over.
Beaver Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that its fish population (if any) has gone unrecorded by DEC surveys. The name suggests what you'd expect: active beaver work, fluctuating water levels, and a shoreline that shifts with the dam's integrity. Without nearby trailheads or peaks to anchor it, this is the kind of pond you stumble onto while bushwhacking or studying a topo map for something quiet. If you're after solitude and don't need a stocked fishery or a marked trail, it'll deliver.
Bettner Ponds — 28 acres, plural name on the map but a single contiguous water — sits in the Long Lake township without the trailhead signage or DEC lean-to infrastructure that draws crowds to better-known ponds in the corridor. No fish species data on file, which usually means either unstocked and wild or too shallow to hold trout through summer — local knowledge would clarify which. The absence of formal access and the quiet reputation suggest this is a put-in-work destination: bushwhack, old logging road, or a local's canoe carry from a nearby lake system. Worth a conversation at the Long Lake hardware store before you load the boat.
Bettner Ponds — a 43-acre pond cluster in the Long Lake township — sits in the kind of low-relief boreal country that defines the northwestern Adirondacks: dense softwood cover, beaver activity, limited road access. The ponds don't appear on most recreational fishing databases, and without trail infrastructure or maintained put-ins, they're more likely to show up on a DEC wetland map than a paddling itinerary. This is working forest country — International Paper and Lyme Timber lands — where gated logging roads and informal hunter access dominate. If you're headed here, assume you're navigating by topo map and GPS, not trailhead signs.
Black Pond is a five-acre water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it likely sits off the main corridor, tucked into second- or third-growth forest without formal trail access or DEC signage. No fish species on record, which typically means either unstocked and unfished or too small to support a reliable population. Waters this size in the Long Lake area often require bushwhacking or old logging roads to reach, and without nearby peaks or documented campsites, this one lives in the category of ponds you find by accident or by studying the topo. If you're after solitude and don't mind a compass bearing, that's the appeal.
Bottle Pond is a 55-acre water in the Long Lake township — no documented fishery, no formal trail system, no DEC campsite inventory. It's the kind of mid-sized pond that shows up on the map without much backstory: likely accessed by bushwhack or private road, likely fished by whoever owns the nearest camp or knows the woods well enough to walk in without a marked path. The name suggests old logging-era use — a bottle stashed by a survey crew or a trapper's cache point — but that's conjecture. If you're looking for a quiet pond with infrastructure, keep driving; Bottle Pond is for the self-sufficient.
Boundary Pond is a seven-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township without much of a public profile — no fish stocking records, no marked trails in the DEC inventory, and no nearby trailheads that treat it as a named destination. The name suggests it once marked a property line or township edge, a common enough origin story for small ponds that never developed into recreation sites. If you're poking around Long Lake's backcountry with a topo map and a tolerance for bushwhacking, it's there; if you're planning a weekend trip, there are a hundred better-documented options within ten miles.
Bum Pond is a 38-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to paddle in an afternoon, remote enough that you won't share it with anyone unless you try. No fish stocking records on file, no marked trail system radiating from the shoreline, no lean-to — this is the kind of pond that exists because the glaciers left it here, not because the state promoted it. Access details are scarce, which in the Adirondacks usually means old logging roads, property-line ambiguity, or both. Worth the effort if you're already in Long Lake with a canoe on the roof and an afternoon to kill.
Cary Pond is a 40-acre water in the Long Lake township — backcountry enough that it hasn't made it onto the standard paddling circuits, but documented in the DEC inventory and named on the topo. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brook trout if anything, or nothing at all. The pond sits in working forest land where access depends on private logging roads and whatever handshake arrangements might exist with the landowner — worth a stop at the Long Lake town office or a local fly shop before you commit to the drive. If you're already in the area for Newcomb or the Santanoni corridor, it's a footnote; if you're chasing obscure ponds for their own sake, it's exactly that.
Charley Pond is a 109-acre pond in the Long Lake township — one of those mid-sized waters that sits off the main recreational corridors and sees minimal pressure as a result. No fish species data on record, which typically means either unstocked native brookies or fishless — worth a call to the local DEC office if you're planning to wet a line. The pond is characteristic of the central Adirondack lowlands: forested shoreline, likely boggy in sections, and accessible by either private road or unmarked approach depending on which end you're coming from. Long Lake hamlet is the logical resupply base and starting point for recon.
Corner Pond is a three-acre pocket tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough that it won't appear on most road atlases and remote enough that casual access information is scarce. No fish species data on file, which in the deeper backcountry often means either unstocked or unsampled rather than barren; brook trout move into these small waters opportunistically after high-water years. The name suggests either a surveyor's landmark or a position relative to a larger water or property line — context that's gone quiet in the local record. Worth asking at the Long Lake town office or the local DEC if you're serious about finding it.
Corner Pond sits north of Long Lake village — a 61-acre water with no formal trail access and no fish stocking records, which means it's either a bushwhack destination or a paddler's side trip from the Raquette River system depending on how the drainage connects. The name suggests it marks a surveyor's boundary or a property corner from the old timber-lease days, but without recent DEC use or angler traffic, it's dropped off the recreational radar. Waters like this are common in the Long Lake corridor: named on the map, viable by canoe or compass, but not maintained for foot traffic. If you're already on the Raquette with a boat and a day to explore, Corner Pond might be worth the detour — otherwise it's a map dot, not a destination.
Deer Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that most maps skip it, remote enough that access details stay local knowledge. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means native brookies if anything, or just a cold, shallow basin that doesn't winter well. The pond sits in that broad stretch of working forest between Long Lake village and the western Wild Forest blocks — more logging road and private inholding than marked trailhead. If you're poking around this drainage, you're either hunting, snowmobiling in from a club trail, or following a local who knows the landowner.
Doctors Pond is a 27-acre water tucked into the woods near Long Lake — small enough to stay off most fishing pressure maps, large enough to feel like a destination if you're hunting solitude. No formal species data on file, which in this part of the park usually means wild brookies or nothing at all, and access details are thin enough that you'll want to ask locally or scout the parcel maps before committing gear to a bushwhack. The name suggests old settlement-era use — possibly a doctor's camp or private holding that's since reverted — but the pond's real value now is as a blank spot on the map in a region where blank spots are getting scarce. If you're in Long Lake and looking for water that doesn't come with a parking lot, this is the kind of place worth investigating.
East Charley Pond is a 25-acre water in the Long Lake town corridor — one of dozens of small ponds scattered across the western lake-and-forest country between the High Peaks and the lakes region proper. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no lean-to — which in this part of the Park usually means bushwhack access or private shoreline. The name suggests an original surveyor or early settler; the "East" implies a West Charley somewhere nearby, though that water doesn't appear on the state's named inventory. If you're poking around Long Lake's back ponds, confirm access and ownership before you launch.
Elk Pond is a 12-acre water in the Long Lake township — small enough to stay off most itineraries but public forest nonetheless. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies if anything, or just a cold headwater pond holding frogs and dragonflies. The name suggests old hunting-camp geography or a forgotten trapper's story, but those details are lost now. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious about what fills the gaps between the named trails.
Flatfish Pond is a 112-acre mid-sized water in the Long Lake township — far enough off the main corridors that it doesn't pull weekend crowds, big enough to hold interest if you're willing to put in the effort to reach it. The name suggests the kind of shallow, marshy basin common to this part of the central Adirondacks, where ponds sit in old glacial bowls and wetlands blur the edges between open water and forest floor. No fish species on record, which likely means limited stocking history and minimal angling pressure — this is a paddle destination, not a fishing camp. Check with the Long Lake town office or local outfitters for current access; many ponds in this area are reached by unmarked woods roads or require a carry.
Hamilton Pond is a 16-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough that it never draws a crowd, large enough that it reads as a pond and not a puddle on the USGS quad. No fish stocking records on file, no formal trail system, no lean-to — this is the kind of place that gets visited by someone who knows someone who grew up nearby, or by a paddler working through every named water in a ten-mile radius of Long Lake village. If you're looking for solitude and you don't need infrastructure, Hamilton Pond delivers exactly that.
Handsome Pond sits off NY-30 south of Long Lake village — 151 acres of open water in the mid-Adirondacks without the overhead drama of nearby peaks or the traffic of the Route 28N corridor. The name suggests old surveyor humor or a local family tie, but the pond itself is straightforward: road access, no designated campsites on record, and no fish stocking data in the DEC system. It reads as a put-in-and-paddle destination — the kind of place that gets you on the water in five minutes but doesn't anchor a weekend trip. Check the DEC's most recent stocking reports if you're bringing a rod.
Hedgehog Pond is a five-acre pocket tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull a heavy recreation load, and remote enough that most paddlers stick to the bigger named waters in the corridor. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means natural brook trout if anything, or just a quiet swim spot for anyone willing to bushwhack in. The pond sits in that stretch of working forest and private inholdings between Long Lake village and the Nehasane preserve — more hunting camp territory than trailhead country. If you're looking for it, start by checking township tax maps and asking at the Long Lake town office.
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.
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.
Otter Pond is an 11-acre stillwater in the Long Lake township — small enough to slip past most recreationists, wide enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring by canoe or packraft. No public fish stocking records on file, which typically means wild brookies or nothing at all; local knowledge fills that gap faster than DEC surveys. The pond sits in working forest land where access patterns shift with timber cycles and seasonal road conditions — check current status with the town or local outfitters before planning a trip. Eleven acres means you can paddle the perimeter in under an hour and still find a lunch rock worth claiming.
Owls Head Pond is a 15-acre water tucked into the woods near Long Lake — small enough that it doesn't draw crowds, large enough that it holds its own quiet character. No fish data on record, no mapped trails leading in, no lean-tos flagged by DEC — this is the kind of pond that shows up on the quad map and stays off the weekend itinerary. Access details are scarce, which usually means bushwhack or private-land complications; worth a call to the Long Lake town office or the local DEC ranger if you're curious. Most paddlers and anglers in this area stick to Long Lake itself or the Raquette River corridor — this one stays quiet by default.
Partridge Pond is a 14-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it won't appear on most recreation maps, remote enough that access details are scarce in the standard guidebooks. Waters this size in the central Adirondacks typically mean either private land or a bushwhack approach through mixed hardwoods and wetland margins; without a documented trail or public put-in, this one stays quiet by default. No fish species data on record — which usually means either unstocked, too shallow to winter over, or simply un-surveyed. Worth a look if you're already in the area with a topo map and a tolerance for route-finding, but not a destination water on its own.
Pear Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to miss on a topo map, quiet enough that it likely stays that way in practice. No fish survey data on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means limited access, limited pressure, or both. The name suggests an old surveyor's notation or a vague shoreline shape — either way, it's the kind of pond that rewards the hiker willing to bushwhack or follow an unmarked route. If you're launching a canoe here, you carried it in yourself.
Pickwacket Pond sprawls across 165 acres in the Long Lake township — a mid-sized water in a region where "mid-sized" still means room to disappear. The name (likely Abenaki in origin, though the etymology is debated) suggests old hunting-ground territory, and the pond sits in that classic Long Lake corridor landscape: mixed hardwood-conifer shoreline, beaver activity, and the kind of quiet that makes you check your watch to see if time stopped. No fish data on record, which in the Adirondacks usually means either unstocked and acidic or simply overlooked by DEC survey crews. Access details are sparse — worth confirming with the Long Lake town office or local outfitters before committing to a paddle-in.
Polliwog Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it won't appear on most regional maps, and remote enough that it's likely reached by bushwhack or a woods road that hasn't seen maintenance in decades. The name suggests early settler or logging-era usage, when every named water had a purpose: drinking supply, log-holding pond, or a landmark for survey crews. No fish data on record, which usually means either the pond winters out or it's simply too far off the grid for DEC sampling crews to bother. If you're chasing it down, start with the Long Lake town clerk or old USGS quads — this one's for map collectors and completionists.
Rob Pond is a 21-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radar, quiet enough to feel like you found it yourself. No fish species on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means it was stocked decades ago and hasn't been revisited, or it's a shallow basin that winters hard. The Long Lake area is laced with old logging roads and unmapped access points; local knowledge matters here more than DEC signage. Worth a call to the Long Lake town office or the Hamilton County tourism desk if you're chasing solitude and don't mind a pond that fishes like a maybe.
Robinson Pond is a 14-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar, which means it holds value as exactly that: a quiet water in a region defined by larger, busier destinations. No fish stocking records on file, no formal trail designation, no DEC lean-to — the kind of place that gets fished by someone who already knows it's there. Access details are local knowledge; if you're asking around Long Lake village, someone at the hardware store or the marina will give you better directions than any map. This is Adirondack filler habitat: not every pond is a destination, and not every destination needs to be.
Rock Pond spreads across 285 acres in the Long Lake township — a mid-sized water with enough surface to hold wind and chop, but still small enough to feel remote once you're on it. The lack of species data on file suggests either light fishing pressure or limited DEC survey work; if you're planning to wet a line, call the Region 5 office in Ray Brook for current stocking records or local intel. The pond sits in working forest land where access and usage patterns can shift with timber management and seasonal road conditions — confirm access routes before you load the canoe. Long Lake itself is the supply hub: gas, groceries, and the DEC ranger station five minutes from the village center.
Sand Pond is a 29-acre stillwater tucked into the woods near Long Lake — small enough to skip the crowds, large enough to paddle a loop without circling back on yourself too quickly. No fish data on record, which usually means it's either too shallow and weedy for trout or it's been overlooked by DEC survey crews for decades; either way, it's more of a quiet-morning paddle than a fishing destination. Access details are sparse — typical for the smaller named ponds in the Long Lake corridor that sit a half-mile or more off the main routes. If you're poking around the dirt roads west of NY-30 and see a trailhead sign, it's probably worth the walk in with a canoe on your shoulders.
Shaw Pond is an 11-acre water in the Long Lake township — small enough to be overlooked, large enough to hold a few hours of exploring by canoe or kayak. No formal fish stocking records and no trailhead signage in the DEC database, which often means local knowledge or a bushwhack approach from a nearby road or logging trace. These off-the-grid ponds tend to fish for wild brookies if the water stays cold and the inlet feeds year-round, but that's speculation without a site visit. Worth a look if you're already in the Long Lake area and hunting for solitude beyond the obvious put-ins.
Shaw Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radars, remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means wild brookies or nothing at all; the DEC hasn't surveyed it in recent memory. These mid-sized ponds in the central Adirondacks tend to be reached by old logging roads or unmarked paths that require local knowledge or a willingness to bushwhack. If you're based in Long Lake and looking for solitude, Shaw Pond is worth a conversation at the town dock or the hardware store.
Stony Pond is a 116-acre water in the Long Lake township — large enough to paddle but off the main corridor, which means it holds quiet when the bigger lakes are busy. No fish species data on file with DEC, and no formal trail system or lean-to inventoried in the immediate vicinity, so this is either private-access or bushwhack territory depending on where you're coming from. The name suggests glacial till and a rockier shoreline than the soft-bottom flow ponds common in this part of the park. Worth checking local access status and ownership maps before planning a trip.
Sutton Pond is a 32-acre water off the Long Lake corridor — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold interest for an afternoon paddle. No fish records on file, which usually means light pressure and quiet shoreline (or challenging access that keeps most anglers elsewhere). The pond sits in the working-forest zone west of Long Lake village, where private timber land and conservation easements make access context-dependent — check current DEC maps or ask locally before you load the canoe. Worth scouting if you're based in Long Lake and looking for alternative water when Raquette Lake or Long Lake itself is wind-chopped or crowded.
Third Pond sits north of Long Lake village — 36 acres with no formal access or maintained trail, which in the central Adirondacks usually means it's either private-bordered or approached by bushwhack. The name suggests it's part of a numbered chain (First, Second, Third), a naming pattern common in working-forest and old logging territory where ponds were mapped but not always settled. No fish stocking records and no DEC lean-tos tied to it in the database. If you know the pond, you likely know it through a camp lease or a local put-in — this one doesn't show up on the tourist trail.
Upper Cat Pond is a small, seven-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational fishing or paddling circuits, and obscure enough that access details remain largely undocumented in standard DEC or trail guides. No fish species data on record, which typically signals either minimal stocking history or limited angler pressure to generate survey work. The "Upper" designation suggests a companion Cat Pond downstream or nearby, but without clear trail or put-in information, this one sits in that quiet category of Adirondack ponds known mostly to hunters, trappers, and the occasional bushwhacker with a topo map and a reason to be there.
Upper Moose Pond is a 40-acre pond in the Long Lake town corridor — part of the Moose Pond chain that includes Lower Moose and Little Moose, though access and connectivity details remain obscure in most trail literature. The pond sits in working forest country where private land and easement access can shift season to season; if you're planning a visit, confirm current put-in options with the town or local outfitters before you load the canoe. No fish species data on record, which usually means either unstocked or simply unreported — brook trout are the default assumption in most Long Lake backcountry ponds, but you're fishing on faith. This is quiet-water paddling territory, not a trailhead destination.
Ward Pond is an 11-acre pond in the Long Lake town corridor — small enough to miss on a topo map, quiet enough to have if you find it. No fish stocking records on file, no designated campsites, no trailhead signs — the kind of water that exists in the gap between state land and private parcels, more useful as a landmark for hunters and snowmobilers than as a paddling destination. If you're looking for solitude and you know how to navigate by contour, Ward Pond delivers; if you need a put-in and a lean-to, keep driving toward Lake Eaton or Forked Lake.
