Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Snake Pond is a four-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it likely sits off-trail or requires local knowledge to reach, and remote enough that no fish data has made it into DEC records. Ponds of this size in the eastern Adirondacks often serve as bushwhack destinations or hunting-season waypoints rather than angling targets, and Snake fits that profile. Without maintained access or stocking history, this is a pond for map-and-compass navigators more than day-trippers. If you're headed in, confirm access and ownership before you go — many small waters in this region sit on mixed public and private land.
Drew Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it doesn't anchor a trail system or pull weekend traffic, but large enough to hold a morning's worth of quiet if you're camped or cabined nearby. No fish species on record, no formal access infrastructure, no nearby peaks to use as reference points — it's the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map but not in most guidebooks. If you know where it is, you likely own land adjacent or you're bushwhacking with intent. Worth confirming access and ownership before you go.
Dishrag Pond is a four-acre pocket of water in the Blue Mountain Lake township — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a cartographic curiosity than a paddling or fishing destination. The name suggests old logging or settlement history, the kind of utilitarian nomenclature that marks ponds used for washing, watering, or temporary camp infrastructure before the Forest Preserve era. No fish stocking records on file, no formal access trail in the DEC inventory. If you're hunting it down, you're doing it for the name and the satisfaction of standing at a pond most people will never see.
Deerfly Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a bushwhack destination or a fishing experiment than as a developed recreation site. The name suggests the kind of backwater stillness that draws both brook trout and the insect that inspired it, though no species data is on record and access details are scarce. Ponds this size in the Saranacs often sit tucked between larger bodies of water or just off logging roads that predate the Forest Preserve — worth scouting if you're already in the area with a topo map and low expectations. Bring bug dope.
Upper Pine Lakes is a 4-acre water in the Speculator corridor — small enough that most USGS quads label it as a pond, not a lake, despite the plural name. No fish data on file with DEC, which typically means put-and-take stocking history at best or a shallow, winterkill-prone basin at worst. The water sits in working forest land west of the hamlet, accessible by logging road or private easement depending on the year and the landowner — confirm access and parking before you drive in. If you're after wild brook trout or a guaranteed put-in, look to nearby Lake Pleasant or Sacandaga Lake instead.
Line Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake township — small enough that it reads more like a widening in a drainage than a named destination, but it carries a surveyor's name and a spot on the map. No fish stocking records, no established trails, no DEC campsites — the kind of water that stays quiet because it offers little beyond the fact of itself. It's likely logging-access or bushwhack territory, and almost certainly better known to the landowner than to the paddling public. If you're hunting for it, confirm access and ownership before you go.
Poker Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it reads more like a widening in a wetland corridor than a destination pond. No official fish survey data on record, and no marked trail appears on DEC maps, which suggests either informal local access or a bushwhack approach through private or state land that hasn't drawn enough traffic to warrant infrastructure. The name likely predates the Wild Forest designation — gaming references show up often in 19th-century Adirondack toponomy, though the story behind this one hasn't surfaced in regional historical records. Worth confirming access legality before heading in.
Beaver River — the pond, not the river system — is a 4-acre patch of water in the Old Forge area, small enough that it likely sits tucked into second-growth forest off a local road or private land access. No fish data on record, which suggests either minimal pressure or minimal stocking history, and the name overlap with the actual Beaver River (which drains northwest out of Stillwater Reservoir) can make this one easy to confuse on older maps. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip — many small "ponds" in the Old Forge corridor are either private or require navigating unmarked woods roads.
Mud Pond — four acres tucked somewhere in the Old Forge township — is one of those small, un-storied waters that dot the working Adirondack landscape between the bigger lakes and the trail systems. No fish data on file, no nearby peaks worth naming, no formal access that pulls it into the recreation economy. It's the kind of pond that exists on the USGS quad but not in the guidebooks — a scrap of open water in second-growth forest, visible from a logging road or a neighbor's back forty, more landmark than destination. If you know where it is, you already know why you're there.
Long Pond is a four-acre water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it likely sits off the main chain-of-lakes corridor that defines paddling in the Fulton Chain area. No fish species on record, which in this region usually means it's either a shallow wetland feeder pond or a backwater that doesn't see stocking pressure. Without established trail or boat-launch data, this is the kind of water that shows up on the DEC Lake Survey list but stays off most paddlers' rotation — a named dot on the map, not a destination. Worth a look if you're sorting through Old Forge's secondary ponds for a quiet put-in, but confirm access and conditions locally before committing the drive.
Readway Ponds — a pair of small water bodies totaling roughly four acres — sit in the working forest northeast of Tupper Lake, tucked into a landscape of private timber tracts and seasonal hunting camps rather than state land corridors. No formal DEC access, no fish stocking records, no trailhead parking lot — this is backcountry by obscurity rather than wilderness designation. The ponds appear on the USGS quad but not in the rotation of stocker-truck routes or lean-to itineraries; if you know where they are, you probably hunt the surrounding ridges or log the nearby cuts. Worth noting on the map for completeness, not for planning a weekend paddle.
Shingle Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees minimal pressure and may not hold a robust fishery, though brookies have a way of showing up in Adirondack ponds this size if the inlet and depth are right. No formal species records on file, which usually means either private access or simply that no one's reporting catches. The name suggests old logging history — shingle mills were common in this part of the park through the early 1900s — but without a documented public trailhead, this one stays off most paddlers' lists. Worth a local inquiry if you're poking around the Tupper backcountry.
Burris Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that you'll find it only on detailed topographic maps, and remote enough that most anglers and paddlers pass through this corner of Essex County without knowing it's there. No fish species on record, no formal access noted, no nearby peaks to anchor it in the mental map of the High Peaks hiker. This is the kind of water that matters to the bushwhacker, the solitude-seeker, or the local who knows the old logging roads — a dot on the map in country where dots matter more than names.
Fox Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps and remote enough that it sits well off the standard lake-to-lake paddling routes that define this region. No public access points documented, no fish stocking records on file, no formal trails leading in. It's the kind of water that exists primarily as a dot on the USGS quad and a footnote in the state's gazetteer — known to the adjacent landowners, invisible to most everyone else.
Washbowl is a four-acre pond in the Raquette Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. The name suggests the kind of glacial scour basin common to the western Adirondacks: steep-sided, tea-colored water, surrounded by mixed hardwoods and hemlock. No fish data on record, which either means it's been overlooked by DEC surveys or it winters out too shallow to hold trout year-round. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake backcountry and you find it, you're probably alone.
Little Pond is a four-acre patch of water in the Speculator area — small enough that it doesn't pull traffic, which is the point if you know where it is. No fish data on file, no marked trails in the immediate radius, no lean-tos or designated campsites that would turn it into a weekend destination. This is the kind of water that shows up on the topo but not in the trip reports — a navigational landmark for bushwhackers, a tea-colored rest stop if you're moving cross-country, or a place to glass for moose at dawn if you're the type who walks in without a trail. Check the DEC unit management plan for the township before assuming access or camping permissions.
Moses Kill is a 4-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps, and remote enough that access details are effectively local knowledge. The name suggests old settlement-era surveying or logging activity (a "kill" being Dutch for creek or channel), though no formal trail or DEC campsite is associated with the water today. Without documented fish data or maintained access, this is the kind of pond that shows up in deed descriptions and on USGS quads but rarely sees intentional visitors. If you're headed there, you're likely bushwhacking or you already know the owner.
Spring Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sits tucked in second-growth forest or off a seasonal-use road, the kind of pond that appears on a topo map but rarely in conversation. No fish stocking records and no nearby named peaks means this is either a local spot with a dirt-road approach or a bushwhack destination for someone with a specific reason to be there. Worth checking DEC mapping or local knowledge in Tupper Lake if you're chasing down every named water in a township — but this one won't be in the guidebooks.
Black Mountain Ponds — a small cluster of waters south of Indian Lake village — sit in the transition zone between the central Adirondacks and the lower-elevation mixed forest that defines the southern edge of the park. At four acres, this is backcountry stillwater rather than destination paddling: expect wetland margins, shallow basins, and the kind of quiet that comes from being off the main corridor. No fish data on record, no maintained trails flagged on the DEC inventory — which means this is either a bushwhack objective or accessible via an unmarked woods road that only gets traffic during hunting season. If you're looking for solitude and can navigate by topo, it's here.
Conglin Lakes is a 4-acre pond in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it likely escaped formal DEC fisheries surveys, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. The name suggests historical settlement or logging-era geography, common in the southern Adirondacks where parcels were often named for families or operations rather than natural features. Without road access or established trails leading in, this is the kind of water that exists more as a cartographic footnote than a destination — worth knowing about if you're bushwhacking the area or studying old property maps, but not a place you'll find trip reports or a designated put-in.
Secret Pond lives up to its name — a four-acre pocket of water tucked into the Keene backcountry with no formal trail, no lean-to, and no fish stocking on record. It's the kind of place that shows up on the DEC database but not in any guidebook, accessed by bushwhack or local knowledge and left alone by the crowds that fill the Route 73 corridor a few miles west. No species data means either no one's fishing it or no one's reporting — both possibilities track for a pond this size and this quiet. If you're here, you probably already know why.
Little Fish Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — the kind of place that shows up on a topo map but rarely in conversation. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trails leading in, no lean-tos or established campsites to anchor it as a destination. It's backcountry by default rather than design: if you're planning to fish it or camp it, you're navigating by compass and USGS quad, not by trailhead signage. Worth knowing it exists if you're the type who likes to put a name to every water you cross.
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.
Lone Pond is a 4-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it likely doesn't pull crowds, remote enough that it hasn't made it onto the standard fishing survey rotations. The name suggests isolation, and in the Raquette drainage that usually means old logging roads, blown-down blowdown, and a put-in that requires either a good map or a willingness to bushwhack. No fish species on record means either it doesn't hold fish or no one's reported catching them — both common in the smaller, shallower ponds that dot the interior. If you're heading that way, bring a topo and plan for solitude.
Lone Duck Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull recreational traffic, but named and mapped, which means it exists in the local geography as a known thing rather than a nameless wetland. No fish data on file, and at four acres it's more likely a seasonal brook trout holdover than a stocked destination. The name suggests either a lone-duck sighting that stuck in someone's memory, or the dry Adirondack humor that names half the ponds in the Park. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake backcountry and you find it, you've earned it.
Trout Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it rarely draws a crowd, large enough that it holds its own quiet character rather than reading as a glorified puddle. No fish data on record, which in the southern Adirondacks usually means either private, lightly managed, or simply under-sampled by DEC surveys. The name suggests historical stocking or resident brookies at some point, but without current reports it's hard to say what swims there now. Worth a look if you're working through the Old Forge back-pond network — just don't expect maintained access or a trailhead sign.
Racquette River — listed here as a 4-acre pond near Tupper Lake — is almost certainly a slack-water section or oxbow along the larger Racquette River system, which drains north from Blue Mountain Lake through Long Lake, Tupper Lake, and onward to the St. Regis watershed. The Racquette proper is a classic Adirondack paddle route with dozens of access points, lean-tos, and carry trails; this particular pond-sized segment may be a quiet eddy or upstream impoundment worth locating on a USGS quad if you're threading together multi-day river trips. No fish data on record, but the main Racquette holds northern pike, smallmouth bass, and yellow perch through most of its length. Check DEC access site listings for Tupper Lake or consult a paddling guidebook to pin down which stretch this refers to.
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.
Otter Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more use from locals than through-hikers, and remote enough that fish stocking records (if they ever existed) haven't made it into the DEC database. The name suggests beaver activity at some point, though whether current or historical is anyone's guess. Ponds this size in the eastern Adirondacks tend to be drive-to or short-walk access rather than backcountry destinations, but without a known trailhead or road access point, this one stays off most recreational radars. Worth confirming access before planning a trip — private land and unmapped woods roads are common in this corner of the Park.
Lynus Vly is a four-acre pond tucked into the Great Sacandaga Lake basin — the kind of small water that doesn't draw crowds and doesn't appear on most recreation maps. The term *vly* (rhymes with "sly") is an old Dutch word for wetland or marsh, common in this part of the southern Adirondacks where glacial melt carved shallow, boggy ponds into the lowland forest. No fish species data on record, which typically means limited depth, soft bottom, and marginal habitat for trout or bass. Access details are sparse — plan on bushwhacking or local knowledge if you're set on finding it.
Bartlett Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid town boundary — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational radar, and remote enough that access details stay local knowledge. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means limited habitat depth or a shallow basin that winterkills, though some of these off-grid ponds hold wild brookies that never make it into DEC surveys. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor proper, so it's not a trailhead magnet or a lean-to destination. If you know where it is, you're either hunting the woodlot edges or you grew up within a few miles.
Round Pond — 4 acres in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — is one of dozens of small ponds in the southern Adirondacks that carry a common name and little fanfare. No fish stocking records, no marked trails on the DEC map, no lean-tos or designated campsites in the immediate drainage. It's the kind of water that shows up on a topo map when you're looking for something else — worth a visit if you're already in the area and comfortable with unmaintained woods, but not a destination pond on its own. Check local access and landowner boundaries before heading in.
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.
Blue Ledge Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it sits below the threshold where most paddlers turn around, and quiet enough that it holds that status by design rather than by accident. No formal fish survey data on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means brook trout went in at some point and either naturalized or didn't. The name suggests ledge geography — likely a granite or schist shelf along one shore — but without nearby trail systems or DEC camping infrastructure, this is local knowledge water. If you're heading in, confirm access and ownership lines at the Indian Lake town office or with a local outfitter.
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.
Little Pine Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and remote enough that it doesn't show up on the standard tourism circuit. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brookies if anything, or nothing at all. Waters this size in the Saranac Lake Wild Forest often require bushwhacking or old logging roads to reach, and the reward is solitude rather than scenery. If you know where it is, you probably already know why you're going.
Clements Pond is a four-acre water in Keene — small enough that it doesn't anchor a trail system or pull weekend traffic, which means it's either privately held or tucked into working forest where access isn't formalized. No fish stocking records on file, which tracks for ponds this size that sit outside the DEC's management rotation. If you're hunting small water in the Keene corridor, this one stays off the recreational radar — more likely a detail on a property deed than a paddling destination.
Risedorph Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that most paddlers would call it a wide spot in a wetland rather than a destination pond. No fish stocking records on file, and the shallow basin and likely soft bottom suggest warm-water species at best, if anything holds year-round. These minor waters in the southern Adirondacks tend to be access-by-permission or landlocked by private parcels — worth confirming ownership and entry rights before planning a visit.
Spring Pond is a 4-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sits off-trail or tucked into private land, with no public access information on record and no fish stocking history in the DEC files. Ponds this size in the Saranac Lake area often serve as neighborhood waters or old club holdings rather than public destinations, which explains the thin data footprint. Without confirmed access or fish species, this is one to note on the map but not to plan a trip around. If you're local and know different, the absence of official records doesn't mean the pond isn't worth knowing.
Mud Pond in Keene is a four-acre pocket water tucked into the wooded terrain east of the village — small enough that most hikers walk past it without a second look, which is precisely its appeal. No fish records on file, no nearby peaks to draw the summit crowd, no lean-tos or designated sites: it's the kind of pond that exists for the person who wants to sit on a log with a thermos and watch the water for an hour. The name tells you what to expect underfoot if you bushwhack to the shore — soft margins, alder thickets, and the quiet hum of a wetland doing its work. If you're in Keene and need an hour away from trail traffic, this is where you go.
Ward Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it reads more like a beaver meadow than a named destination, and obscure enough that it doesn't show up in the standard paddling guides or fishing reports. No fish stocking data on file, no maintained trail infrastructure, no lean-to within shouting distance. This is the kind of water that exists on the map because it holds water year-round and someone gave it a name a century ago, not because anyone's planning a weekend around it. If you know how to get there, you already know what you're walking into.
Brown Pond is a four-acre water in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational radar. No fish data on record, no formal trail infrastructure, no nearby peaks to anchor a hiking loop — this is the kind of pond you find on a USGS quad while planning a bushwhack or stumble onto during hunting season. If you're looking for solitude measured in acres per visitor, Brown Pond delivers; if you're looking for a destination, keep driving.
Brindle Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge region — small enough that it likely doesn't draw much pressure, and the kind of pond that shows up on the map but rarely in trip reports. No fish stocking records on file, which in this part of the park often means a shallow basin that winters out or a deep spring-fed hole that never got surveyed — either way, not a fishing destination. The Old Forge area leans heavily toward the Fulton Chain and the bigger paddling circuits, so ponds like Brindle tend to stay quiet by default. Worth checking the DEC Unit Management Plan for the township if you're planning to bushwhack in — access details for the smaller waters here are often buried in the planning documents rather than posted at trailheads.
Coonrod Pond is a four-acre pocket of water in the town of Keene — small enough that it lives below the radar of most paddlers and anglers, and quiet enough that if you know where it is, you're probably keeping it that way. No fish stocking records, no formal access points advertised, no trail register to sign. These kinds of ponds tend to sit on private land or require bushwhacking through mixed hardwood and wetland edges, which means they stay off the weekend rotation and hold onto their solitude. If you're hunting stillwater that doesn't show up on every hiking app, start with the town tax maps.
Lost Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than anglers, and remote enough that current fish survey data is nonexistent. The name suggests either an early surveyor's oversight or a backcountry locals' nickname that stuck on the map, and ponds like this one tend to function more as wildlife corridors than recreation destinations. No maintained campsites, no stocked fish, no trail register at the trailhead. Worth noting on a bushwhack route or a topo exercise, but not a paddling objective unless you're already headed that direction for other reasons.
Rock Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreation maps, which usually means it's either tucked into private land or accessible only by local knowledge. No fish species on record, no nearby peaks, no trailhead signage — the kind of water that exists in the gap between state land and the curated trail system. If you're hunting it down, confirm access and ownership before you bushwhack; the Old Forge region is a patchwork of private clubs, paper company parcels, and state forest, and a 4-acre pond with no data footprint is more likely to be off-limits than open. Worth a call to the Old Forge Visitor Center if you've got coordinates.
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.
Lillypad Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Keene backcountry — small enough that it likely lives up to its name by midsummer, when emergent vegetation claims the shallows and the open water shrinks to a center channel. No fish species on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means either the pond winters out (freezes to the bottom, killing fish) or it was never stocked and lacks inlet flow robust enough to support natural reproduction. Worth checking local trail registers or the DEC Region 5 office in Ray Brook for access details — ponds this size in the Keene area are often reached by unmarked footpaths or old logging roads rather than maintained trailheads.
Ore Bed Pond is a 4-acre pocket water in the Keene backcountry — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational itineraries, tucked into the kind of terrain that favors local knowledge over trailhead signs. The name hints at historical mining activity in the area, part of the 19th-century iron extraction that left scattered adits and tailings throughout the eastern Adirondacks. No fish data on file, no maintained trail markers — this is walk-in-and-see territory, the kind of pond that rewards the curious and punishes the unprepared. Worth confirming access and property boundaries before bushwhacking in.
Doran Creek is one of those small Tupper Lake-area ponds that exists more as a cartographic fact than a destination — four acres tucked into working forestland with no formal access, no stocked fish, and no particular reason to bushwhack in unless you're surveying property lines or chasing a beaver flowage upstream. The name suggests old logging-era geography, likely tied to a family or a camp that predates the state's acquisition of surrounding parcels. If you're looking for fishable water in this corner of the Park, you're better off on Horseshoe Pond, Raquette Pond, or any of the put-ins along the Bog River — all within a ten-minute drive and all with actual access.
Dipper Pond is a four-acre pocket of water in the Brant Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on recreation maps and quiet enough that most paddlers in the area never hear about it. No fish stocking records on file, no formal trail infrastructure, no DEC campsite designations — it reads as private or functionally inaccessible to the general public. These micro-ponds scattered through the southern Adirondacks often sit on private forestland or require bushwhacking through thick second-growth to reach. If you're researching Dipper Pond for a trip, confirm access and ownership before you go.
Round Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it rarely draws a crowd, large enough that it holds its own character instead of reading as a roadside pool. No fish data on record, which usually means either marginal habitat or just unmapped rather than unfishable; worth a cast if you're passing through with a rod. The pond sits in the working forest west of the Fulton Chain, where public and private parcels checker the landscape and access can shift with timber company policy — confirm current status with the Old Forge Visitor Center before planning a trip. Best treated as a bushwhack or local-knowledge destination rather than a trailhead objective.
Evies Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it likely exists as a local reference point or a pass-through on someone's canoe route rather than a destination in its own right. No fish stocking records on file, which in Old Forge's web of ponds and channels usually means it's either too shallow for winter survival or simply off the recreational radar. The name suggests private or historic use — possibly tied to an old camp or family holding — but without public access or trail infrastructure, it's the kind of water that stays local knowledge. If you're poking around Old Forge's backcountry by boat, you'll know it when you see it.
Hopsicker Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Old Forge basin — the kind of pond that shows up on the DEC list but not on most people's radar. No fish data on file, no established trails noted in the standard references, no lean-tos or designated campsites. It's likely a bushwhack-only access or a local secret tucked into the working forest around the Moose River Plains — worth knowing it exists if you're studying the Old Forge watershed, but not a destination unless you're already in the neighborhood with a canoe and a willingness to navigate off-trail.
Owl Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up on recreational fishing maps and carries no species data in the DEC records. The name suggests old surveyor's nomenclature or a landowner's reference that stuck, and ponds this size in the southern Adirondacks often sit on mixed public-private land or within larger forest tracts with limited marked access. Without trail data or stocking history, this is the kind of water that rewards local knowledge more than a GPS pin. If you're in the area and know the access, it's worth checking shoreline structure for native brookies or holdover panfish.
Poplar Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it lives outside the main paddling circuit but large enough to show up on the quad. No fish stocking records and no maintained trail access in the DEC database, which usually means either private inholdings or a bushwhack approach through second-growth hardwood and wetland margin. The name suggests an old burn or clearing — poplar moves in fast after disturbance — but without access intel it's worth a call to the Old Forge visitor center before making the drive. If you're looking for a similar-sized pond with a marked trail, consider heading toward the Ha-de-ron-dah Wilderness instead.
Squirrel Ponds — three acres tucked somewhere in the Old Forge township grid — exists in the data but not in the recreational conversation, which usually means either private holdings, landlocked public parcels, or beaver work that comes and goes with the water table. The name suggests local usage rather than official DEC designation, and the absence of fish records points to seasonal depth or access issues that keep it off the stocking rotation. If you're after named water in the Old Forge corridor, the South Branch of the Moose River and the chain lakes (First through Eighth) are the proven destinations — Squirrel Ponds remains more of a map dot than a paddle plan.
Livingston Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid corridor — small enough that it doesn't appear on most trail maps and rarely shows up in regional fishing or paddling logs. No fish species data on record, which typically means either unstocked and unsampled or too shallow and acidic to hold trout through summer — common for the smaller High Peaks waters tucked into spruce drainages. The name suggests private or semi-private history, and without public access information on file it's likely either landlocked by private parcels or accessible only by bushwhack. If you know the put-in, it's the kind of place you keep to yourself.
Cooper Kill Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid township — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational lists, quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish data on record, no trail register, no lean-to — the kind of water that serves as a landmark on a bushwhack route or a turnaround point on a dirt road rather than a destination. The name Cooper Kill follows the Dutch colonial convention (kill = creek), suggesting the pond drains into a small tributary system rather than holding any depth or flow of its own. If you're looking for it, you already know why.
Rhododendron Pond is a three-acre pocket tucked into the woods near Keene — small enough that it won't show up on most trail maps, quiet enough that it holds its place as a local footnote rather than a destination. No fish data on record, no formal access route advertised by DEC, and the name suggests someone either found blooms near the shore or wished they had. Ponds this size in the Keene drainage tend to sit on old logging roads or connector trails between more trafficked routes — worth knowing about if you're already in the area, not worth the drive if you're not.
