Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Jack Pond is a seven-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational radar, which also means it rarely appears in the DEC's stocking or survey records. No species data on file, no established access trail in the standard databases, no lean-to or campsite designation. Ponds like this exist in the gaps between the documented network: known to local landowners, trappers, and the occasional bushwhacker, but functionally off-grid for the rest of us. If you're headed in, confirm access and ownership before you go — many small ponds in this area sit on private inholdings or require permission.
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.
Lily Pad Pond is a small, seven-acre water tucked into the Saranac Lake region — the kind of pond that's named exactly what it looks like by mid-July. No fish data on record, no established trails marked on state maps, and no nearby peaks of note — this is backwater territory, likely accessed by bushwhack or private road depending on parcel lines. Ponds this size in this zone tend to be either hunting-camp holdovers with gated seasonal access or DEC easement parcels waiting for someone to cut a formal path. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a visit.
Lake Te-Jec-Na is a 7-acre pond in the Old Forge area — small enough that it likely sits tucked in second- or third-growth forest, accessible by local road or private land rather than marked trail. The name suggests Iroquois origin, though whether it survives in common use or appears only on USGS quads is hard to say without boots on the ground. No fish data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed recently or it doesn't hold a sustainable population — shallow ponds this size in the Old Forge lowlands can winter-kill in hard years. If you're looking for it, start with the DEC's Old Forge road atlas and confirm access before you go.
Little Hope Pond is a 7-acre pocket of water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it doesn't pull recreational traffic, quiet enough that it holds its name honestly. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trailhead signage, no lean-to — this is the kind of water that shows up on the DEC wetlands inventory and stays off the weekend loop. If you know where it is, you probably walked past it on the way to something bigger, or you're hunting grouse in the surrounding second-growth and stopped to glass the surface. Worth a look if you're already nearby; not a destination on its own.
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.
Lake Elizabeth is a seven-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that "pond" is the more honest term, though the name stuck. No fish data on record and no formal trails or lean-tos in the DEC inventory, which suggests either private access or a water that sits just outside the recreational circuit most paddlers and anglers work. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these smaller waters tucked between the big-name destinations; some are posted, some are just off the map. If you're looking for Elizabeth specifically, start with the town clerk's office or a local realtor — access questions here run through property lines, not trailheads.
Mud Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Indian Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that it doesn't show up on most recreation lists. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brookies if anything, or nothing at all. Waters this size in the central Adirondacks tend to be either beaver-flowage gems or tannic bowls choked with lily pads by mid-July — Mud Pond could go either way. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious, but this isn't a destination pond unless you're surveying or hunting.
Parmeter Pond is a seven-acre water in the Tupper Lake township — small enough that it lives in the gap between the named destinations and the working landscape most visitors drive past. No fish species on the DEC survey record, which usually means brookies that never got stocked or sampled, or a pond that winters-out in lean years. The name suggests old farming or logging boundaries — *Parmeter* as surname, not landmark — and ponds this size in this region tend to sit on private land or at the end of unmaintained woods roads that only the neighbor with an ATV still uses. If you're hunting down every named water in the Park, this one's on the list; if you're planning a weekend, it's not.
Courtney Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it won't show up on most recreation maps, tucked into the kind of wooded parcel that defines the eastern Adirondacks' mix of private land and old-growth quiet. No public access infrastructure, no fish stocking records, no trail register at a trailhead — this is either a private pond or effectively landlocked by the surrounding ownership pattern. If you're poking around Paradox Lake or driving the backroads near Severance, you might catch a glimpse through the trees, but don't expect a put-in or a campsite.
Cliff Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't show up on most planning maps, and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means either natural brook trout populations or nothing at all; local knowledge is the only reliable intel here. The name suggests rock ledges at the shoreline or a bluff somewhere in the drainage — common enough in this part of the western Adirondacks, where the topography shifts from flat pine flats to abrupt granite ridges without much warning. Worth a look if you're already in the area and chasing small water; don't plan a weekend around it.
Twin Ponds sits in the Old Forge area — a seven-acre water with no formal fish stocking record and limited public documentation. The name suggests a paired-pond formation, common in glacial Adirondack terrain where a single basin splits or where two adjacent bowls share drainage. Without confirmed DEC access or trail data, this is likely private or landlocked, though many small Old Forge waters have informal carry-in routes known to locals with permission. If you're chasing it, start with the town assessor's maps and a conversation at a bait shop on Route 28.
Black Pond is a 7-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it doesn't pull traffic from the named trout lakes nearby, but large enough to hold a canoe and an afternoon. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brook trout if anything, or just a quiet paddle with no casting pressure. The pond sits in that middle distance between road and backcountry — not a roadside pull-off, not a commitment hike — where you're more likely to see a heron working the shallows than another group. Check the DEC unit management plan or the local ranger station for current access and whether camping is permitted.
Calahan Pond is a seven-acre kettle pond in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it doesn't pull much attention from the bigger named waters nearby, which is precisely its appeal. No formal fish stocking records on file, no marked trail system, no lean-tos — this is the kind of water that shows up on a topo map and rewards the paddler or bushwhacker willing to figure out the approach. The shoreline is typical lowland Adirondack: mixed hardwoods, marshy edges, beaver activity depending on the year. If you're looking for solitude within striking distance of Schroon Lake village, start here.
Buck Pond is a small seven-acre water in the Speculator area — one of those named ponds that shows up on the map without much fanfare and without much pressure. No fish stocking records on file, no designated campsites, no trailhead sign pointing you in — which means it's either a local spot with informal access or a pond that gets more attention from moose than from anglers. If you're in the area and have a topo map, it's worth the reconnaissance; if not, there are bigger, better-documented options within a short drive.
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.
Oncio Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid region — small enough that it rarely shows up on anyone's radar, which is exactly why it matters to the handful of paddlers and anglers who know it. No fish species data on file, which usually means either brook trout that no one's bothered to report or a pond that doesn't hold fish through the summer. Access details are sparse in the DEC records; if you're heading out, bring a topo and expect to work for it. The reward is a quiet pond where you're unlikely to see another boat all day.
Black Mountain Ponds — plural, though mapped as a single feature — sits in the middle timber between Indian Lake and Speculator, accessible via seasonal logging roads that shift status depending on the year and the landowner. The seven-acre system is typical of the central Adirondack working forest: boggy margins, beaver activity, and the kind of solitude that comes from being neither a destination nor particularly easy to reach. No fish stocking records, no formal trails, no DEC presence — this is old-growth-adjacent country where you're more likely to see moose sign than footprints. If you're out here, you're either hunting, birding, or comfortable with a map and a bearings compass.
Hatch Pond is a 7-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radars, tucked into the low hills east of Schroon Lake where the terrain flattens out toward Lake Champlain. No fish species data on record, which usually means light pressure and marginal habitat; it's the kind of pond that shows up on the map but not in the fishing reports. Access details are sparse — likely private or walk-in only, typical for ponds this size in the Paradox corridor. Worth a look if you're already nearby and hunting for solitude, but confirm land status before you go.
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.
South Pond is a small, quiet water in the Speculator area — seven acres, tucked into the working forest landscape south of town where the named ponds thin out and the timber roads multiply. No fish stocking data on record, which usually means brook trout if anything, or nothing at all. Access details are sparse in the public record, but ponds this size in this region are often walk-ins from old logging routes or private inholdings — worth a stop at the local DEC office or a conversation at Charlie Johns Store if you're planning to fish it.
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.
Lone Pond lives up to its name — a seven-acre body of water tucked into the working forest north of Tupper Lake village, far enough off the main corridor that most paddlers and anglers never make the list. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brookies if there's adequate depth and inlet flow, or nothing at all if it's shallow and low-oxygen. The surrounding timber is a mix of private holdings and state land; access depends on where the parcel lines fall and whether a woods road still punches through. If you're poking around this zone, confirm ownership and access with the DEC Ray Brook office before you bushwhack in.
Twin Lakes sits in the Old Forge area — a small, seven-acre pond that doesn't draw much attention in a region dominated by larger, more accessible waters like the Fulton Chain. No official fish stocking records on file, which typically means brookies if anything, or it's been written off entirely by DEC surveys. The name suggests a paired-pond system, though whether the second lake still holds water or silted in decades ago isn't clear from the map. Access and ownership status unknown — assume private or unmaintained until you confirm otherwise with local outfitters or the town clerk.
Buckhorn Ponds — a seven-acre pair tucked into the woods south of Speculator — sits far enough off the main resort corridors that it doesn't show up on most paddler itineraries, and the state records don't list fish species data, which usually means either occasional brookies or none at all. Access details are thin on the ground; this is backcountry that requires either local knowledge or a willingness to bushwhack with a topo map and a compass bearing. The ponds drain south toward the Sacandaga drainage — remote, quiet, and worth the effort if you're already in the neighborhood and looking for water that doesn't appear on Instagram.
Mud Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — one of dozens of small, understated ponds that sit off the main travel corridors and see more moose than paddlers. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means brook trout if anything, or nothing at all if the pond goes low-oxygen in winter. The name is descriptive: expect a soft bottom, lily pads by midsummer, and the kind of stillness that makes every paddle stroke audible. Worth checking a topo map for access before committing — many ponds this size in the area are walk-ins through private or informal routes rather than marked DEC trailheads.
Bacon Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough to stay off most touring itineraries, which makes it a reliable refuge when the big named lakes get crowded. No fish stocking data on record, and the size suggests marginal trout habitat at best, but that's never been the draw here. This is a pond for people who want to sit on a shoreline alone with a dog and a book, or paddle a kayak in dead-still water without crossing wakes. Access details vary by season — check with the local DEC office or regional paddling groups for current put-in status and ownership boundaries.
Mountain Ponds — note the plural, though the name often appears singular on maps — is a small, quiet water tucked into the forests south of Saranac Lake village, part of the network of ponds and wetlands that drain toward Oseetah Lake and the broader Saranac chain. At seven acres, it's more of a beaver meadow than a fishable pond, the kind of place paddlers stumble onto while exploring the smaller tributaries or bushwhacking between better-known waters. No fish stocking records, no formal trail — this is wetland habitat more than destination water. If you're looking for actual angling or a named campsite, stay on the main Saranac Lakes or head to one of the nearby wilderness ponds with established access.
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.
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.
Buck Ponds — seven acres tucked somewhere in the Speculator region — is one of those waters that exists on the DEC list but hasn't accumulated much of a paper trail. No fish stocking records, no nearby trailhead chatter, no lean-to or campsite mentions in the usual sources. It's likely a bushwhack or a local-knowledge access, the kind of place that shows up on a USGS quad but not in the hiking guides. If you know the put-in, you know it — otherwise, this one stays quiet.
Carry Pond is a seven-acre water in the Raquette Lake drainage — the kind of small, off-trail pond that holds brook trout or holds nothing, depending on the decade and the beaver activity. The name suggests portage history, likely a link in an old canoe route before the roads came through, but today it sits quiet in second-growth hardwoods with no formal access or maintained trail. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked or too shallow to winter over a trout population. If you know where it is, you already know why you're going.
Bumbo Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — low-profile, lightly visited, and the kind of place that stays off most hiking itineraries not because it's remote but because it doesn't announce itself. The name alone (likely a corruption of an older surveyor's term or local nickname) hints at its backstory as a working-landscape water rather than a scenic destination. No fish stocking records on file, no established trail system, no lean-to — this is a pond for the orienteering types who treat the DEC unit management plan maps as invitations. If you're already in the area for Paradox Lake itself, Bumbo makes a reasonable bushwhack objective; otherwise, it's a dot on the map that rewards exactly the effort you put into finding it.
Chub Pond is a 7-acre pocket of water in the Blue Mountain Lake township — small enough that it likely sees more moose than motorboats, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. The name suggests either a healthy population of creek chubs in the inlet or the kind of nickname that sticks after one good fishing trip in 1947. No fish survey data on record, which in the Adirondacks usually means either truly wild brookies that no one bothers to stock, or a shallow basin that winterkills most years. Worth a look if you're already in the area with a topo map and a tolerance for bushwhacking — but this isn't a destination pond unless you're the type who considers "no information available" a feature, not a bug.
Stonystep Pond is a 7-acre pocket of water in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it doesn't register on most regional fishing or paddling lists, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. The name suggests old logging or trapping routes (stone steps laid across wet ground or stream crossings were common trail infrastructure in the 19th century), but without recorded fish species or maintained trail access, this is likely private, landlocked, or otherwise off the recreational grid. Worth noting only if you're doing title research or tracing old survey maps — not a destination for casual paddlers or anglers.
Birch Pond is a seven-acre water tucked into the Keene township — small enough to stay off most hiking itineraries, quiet enough to hold that status. No fish stocking records on file, no marked trail system leading in, no lean-to or DEC campsite designation — the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map but rarely in trip reports. If you're looking for solitude and you know how to navigate off-trail in the northeastern Adirondacks, Birch Pond delivers exactly what its acreage suggests: a place to sit still for an hour and hear nothing but water and wind. Access details are local knowledge; ask in Keene Valley if you're serious about finding it.
Mud Pond is a seven-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that it probably doesn't have a maintained access trail. The name says it out loud: shallow water, organic bottom, the kind of pond that's more wetland than open water by late summer. No fish data on record, which tracks for a pond this size in this kind of basin — it may hold brookies if there's inlet flow and winter oxygen, but just as likely it's a seasonal breeding ground for amphibians and a waypoint for waterfowl. If you're looking for it, start with the DEC's Unit Management Plan maps for the region and a tolerance for bushwhacking.
Bennett Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Brant Lake region — small enough that it likely sits on private land or sees minimal public use, and quiet enough that DEC fish surveys haven't logged species data. Ponds this size in the southeastern Adirondacks often serve as seasonal wildlife corridors and off-trail destinations for paddlers willing to scout access with a topo map and landowner permission. Without documented public access or stocking records, Bennett functions more as a named feature on the landscape than a recreational destination. If you're targeting fishable water in the Brant Lake area, Brant Lake itself and nearby Pharaoh Lake Wilderness ponds offer clearer routes in.
Champlain Canal is a 6-acre pond in the Lake George region — the name suggests canal-era origins, though the water itself sits outside the main navigation corridor that historically connected the Hudson River to Lake Champlain. No fish species on record and no nearby peaks or curated access points, which places this in the category of small named waters that exist more as geographic features than as recreation destinations. If you're tracking down every named water in the Adirondack Park for completeness, this one checks the box — but expect minimal infrastructure and limited reason to visit unless you're working land or mapping the region.
Cooler Pond is a six-acre pocket of water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. No fish data on record, which usually means either marginal habitat or simply too far off the beaten path to draw survey attention. The name suggests either a surveyor's quirk or a long-forgotten local reference — cooling a catch, a spring-fed temperature drop, or just somebody's dry humor on a hot afternoon. Worth a look if you're already deep in the area and curious, but don't expect a trailhead sign.
Egg Pond is a six-acre kettle in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up on recreational fishing reports, quiet enough that it holds its place as a local reference point rather than a destination. No formal trail system, no DEC-maintained access, no stocking records in the state database. These small waters tend to function as landmarks for hunters, trappers, and the occasional bushwhacker working between better-known ponds, and Egg follows that pattern — it's there, it's named, and it marks a spot on the map more than it draws a crowd.
Bald Mountain Pond is a six-acre water tucked into the working forest west of Old Forge — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, large enough that it holds its own character in a region dense with bigger destinations. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing at all; worth a scouting trip if you're already in the area with a canoe and low expectations. The Old Forge / Inlet corridor has dozens of ponds in this size class, most of them legacy logging waters that never made it onto the standard tourist loop. Check current ownership and access before heading in — much of this country is private timberland with gates that open and close by season.
Coon Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreation maps and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout in low numbers or a pond that winters out every few decades. Without maintained trail access or nearby trailhead infrastructure, this is the kind of water that gets visited by local landowners, adjacent campers, or the occasional bushwhacker working through a topo map. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip.
Lost Pond is a 6-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — one of dozens of small, unnamed-on-most-maps ponds scattered through the working forest and private parcels west of the Fulton Chain. No fish stocking records, no established public access, and no DEC trail leads to it — which means it lives up to its name for anyone without local beta or a landowner connection. In a region dense with accessible paddling (the Fulton Chain, North Lake, Moss Lake all within minutes), Lost Pond stays off the summer circuit by design. If you know how to reach it, you already know why it's worth the walk.
Bullhead Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Speculator area — small enough that it rarely makes the touring lists, which keeps it quiet. No fish stocking records on file, and no formal trail documentation in the DEC system, which typically means either walk-in access from a nearby road or private land in the mix. Waters this size in the southern Adirondacks often sit in mixed-ownership patchwork; check current sportsman access programs or local maps before you put boots down. If it's open, expect shallow water, lily pads by midsummer, and the kind of solitude that comes with ponds under ten acres.
Lockart Pond is a six-acre pond in the town of Keene — small enough that it doesn't pull the foot traffic of the named-peak destinations nearby, but large enough to hold water through a dry August. No fish species on record, which usually means it's either too shallow for consistent overwinter survival or it's simply been passed over by DEC survey crews in favor of more productive waters. The pond sits in mixed hardwood forest typical of the Keene valley floor — private land surrounds most small ponds in this area, so assume limited or no public access unless you've confirmed a trailhead or easement. Worth a knock on a door if you're looking for a quiet float; otherwise, this one stays off the typical paddler's map.
Potter Pond is a six-acre pond in the Blue Mountain Lake township — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained access, no trailhead signage — the kind of water that exists more as a dot on the quad map than as a destination. If you're poking around the backroads or bushwhacking between documented routes in the central Adirondacks, you might stumble on it. Otherwise, it stays off the list.
Bumps Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't pull much attention from the bigger named lakes nearby, but the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map and makes you wonder who fished it last. No species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked and unfished or too shallow to hold trout through the summer. The name suggests old surveyor's slang or a long-gone local landmark — *bumps* as terrain feature, not personality. Worth a look if you're working through the lesser-known waters in the southern park, but set expectations accordingly.
Springhill Ponds is a six-acre water tucked into the Paradox Lake region — the kind of small pond that appears on the DEC quadrant maps but rarely makes it into guidebooks or trip reports. No fish stocking records, no designated trail infrastructure, no nearby named peaks — this is backcountry-lite in the eastern foothills, where the terrain flattens out and the ponds get overlooked in favor of the bigger named waters to the west. Access details are scarce; most visitors stumble onto it via bushwhack or old logging roads that may or may not still be passable. If you're looking for solitude and you know how to read a topo map, it's worth the effort.
Shew Pond is a six-acre water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreation maps, and unlikely to hold much beyond whatever warmwater species migrate through connecting streams or survive winter drawdown. No fish species data on record, which usually means either no formal DEC survey work or nothing worth reporting. The name suggests old family land or a long-gone settlement, common in this part of the southern Adirondacks where the reservoir drowned most of the context. If you're looking for it, start with the nearest town clerk's office or a USGS topo — access here is either private or unmarked.
Little Marsh Pond is a six-acre pocket in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it likely lives up to its name, with marsh grasses working in from the edges and the kind of shallow, tea-colored water that warms early and hosts dragonflies by June. No fish data on record, which tracks for ponds this size in low-traffic zones: they're often too shallow or oxygen-poor to winter trout, though some hold panfish or pickerel if they're connected to larger systems. Access details are sparse, suggesting either private shoreline or a bushwhack situation — worth a local inquiry at the town office or a knock on a camp door before hauling a canoe in. The Paradox Lake watershed runs quiet compared to the High Peaks or the Saranacs, so if you're looking for solitude and don't mind uncertain footing, this is the right corner of the park.
Wilson Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it won't show up on most recreation maps, but named and surveyed all the same. No fish species data on record, which typically means either it winterkills, sees minimal pressure, or both. Ponds this size in the Tupper Lake corridor often sit tucked in second-growth forest off old logging roads or between private parcels, and access — if public at all — is rarely signed or maintained. Worth confirming land status and access before planning a trip.
Windfall Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps, which means it's either a bushwhack destination or tucked into private land with no public through-access. The name suggests blowdown history: *windfall* ponds in the Adirondacks typically form in depressions created by uprooted timber, and the small surface area fits that profile. No fish species on record, which isn't unusual for isolated waters under ten acres — they winterkill, or they were never stocked to begin with. If you're hunting for it, start with the DEC's Raquette Lake Unit Management Plan and a good topo; otherwise, it's a footnote on the larger Raquette Lake chain.
Pat Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational radar, which also means it's rarely crowded. No fish stocking records and no formal trail access in the DEC inventory, so this is either private, landlocked by larger parcels, or reachable only by local knowledge and permission. If you're poking around the back roads east or west of Schroon Lake and see a name-signed pond this size, assume it's watched — worth a knock on a door before you launch anything.
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.
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.
Bloodsucker Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — name origin unclear, though the Adirondacks have a dozen "Bloodsucker" waters scattered across the park, most named for the leeches that were once commercially harvested from beaver ponds and slow-moving shallows. No fish species on record and no maintained trail infrastructure in the immediate vicinity, which leaves this one in the category of small, unmanaged ponds best left to paddlers with a taste for off-grid exploring or locals who know the old logging roads. If you're planning a visit, bring a topo map and assume you're on your own — Old Forge-area waters without formal access tend to require either a long paddle-in or a bushwhack through second-growth forest.
Touey Pond is a six-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, remote enough that it likely doesn't see intentional visits outside of hunters working the surrounding ridges in November. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail access in the DEC database, no lean-to within bushwhack distance. This is the kind of pond that shows up on the topo map as a blue dot with a name — a cartographic artifact more than a destination, the sort of place you'd only reach by deliberate effort or by accident while chasing a bearing line through second-growth hardwoods.
Bucket Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it lives in the margins of the bigger lake's recreational orbit but remote enough that it's not a roadside stop. No fish stocking records on file, which likely means native brookies if anything, or a warmwater population that never made it onto DEC survey lists. The name suggests old logging or settlement-era use — "bucket" ponds typically marked a water source for camps or work crews — but the specific etymology is lost to local memory. Access details are scarce; if you're looking for it, start with town records in Northville or Day and expect bushwhacking or an unmarked woods road.
Fly Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational radar, which is half the point of knowing it exists. No fish stocking records on file, no formal access infrastructure, and no nearby peak anchors to draw the hiking crowd. These micro-ponds in the Old Forge drainage tend to be snowmobile-season discoveries or local spots held by camp owners who know the woods between the bigger lakes. If you're poking around the back roads south or west of town with a canoe on the roof, Fly Pond is the kind of name worth a second look on the DeLorme.
