Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Waldron Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Brant Lake region — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a landscape feature than a fishing or paddling destination. No species data on file, which typically means limited stocking history and whatever wild populations (if any) can sustain themselves in a pond this size. These small, off-the-radar waters tend to be either spring-fed gems with crystal water and native brookies or shallow, weedy basins that warm fast and freeze early. Worth checking a topo if you're exploring the area, but set expectations accordingly.
Upper Goose Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely doesn't see much pressure beyond the occasional local angler or paddler who knows where to find it. No fish species data on record, which in the Adirondacks usually means either it's too shallow to winter over, stocked irregularly, or simply under-surveyed. Waters this size tend to be access-dependent: if there's a nearby camp road or an old logging trail, it gets used; if not, it stays quiet. Worth checking the DEC's public access mapper before committing to a bushwhack.
Florence Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Old Forge corridor — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and the kind of place that shows up on a topo map but not in most guidebooks. No fish species data on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means either unstocked and unproductive or simply unstudied. The pond sits in working forest country where access depends on current logging roads and private landowner tolerance — worth a phone call to the town clerk or a local outfitter before you bushwhack in. If you're after solitude and you've got good map skills, this is the kind of water that rewards the effort.
Loch Bonnie is a two-acre pond tucked into the Lake Placid township — small enough that it rarely appears on anything but the most detailed maps, and quiet enough that most visitors to the region never hear the name. The "Loch" suggests Scottish-influenced naming from the late 19th or early 20th century, when European placenames were in fashion across the Adirondacks, though the pond itself predates any romanticism. No fish species data on record, which typically means limited depth, heavy vegetation, or both — a place for dragonflies and wood frogs, not anglers. Worth tracking down if you're compiling a completist list of named waters in the Lake Placid corridor, but manage expectations accordingly.
Rabbit Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it likely warms by mid-summer and holds more interest for a canoe paddle than a fishing trip. No fish species on record, no maintained trail data in the DEC inventory, and no nearby peaks to anchor it in a day-hike loop — this is the kind of water that shows up on the topo map but rarely in trip reports. It sits in the working forest south and west of Indian Lake village, where old logging roads and private inholdings make access a puzzle unless you know the local network. Best confirmed with the town office or a local outfitter before planning a visit.
Tennis Court Pond is a 2-acre pocket water in the Indian Lake region — small enough that it likely earned its name from shape or size rather than any actual sporting history. No fish species data on file, which typically means it's either too shallow for reliable trout habitat or simply unmapped by DEC survey crews. These minor ponds in the central Adirondacks often sit tucked behind private land or require local knowledge to reach; without public access documentation, it's worth checking with the Indian Lake town office or regional DEC outpost before planning a visit. If you find it accessible, expect a quiet, low-traffic water — the kind of place where a canoe and a quiet afternoon are the whole point.
Kumph Pond is two acres of obscure water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it doesn't register on most recreation maps and remote enough that most locals would need a moment to place it. No fish species on record, no designated campsites, no formal trail access in the state database — this is the kind of pond you find by accident while bushwhacking or by intention if you're working through every named water in the Park. The Paradox Lake area runs lean on trails compared to the High Peaks, so Kumph sits in that middle-distance backcountry where a topo map and a compass still earn their weight.
Black Mountain Ponds sit in the dense forest east of Brant Lake — a pair of small, shallow kettle ponds with no formal trail access and no established use history in the DEC records. The surrounding terrain is private timberland and low ridges; this is working-forest country, not recreation corridor, and the ponds themselves are more ecological footnote than destination. No fish stocking records, no campsites, no reason to bushwhack in unless you're surveying wetlands or chasing a property line. If you're looking for backcountry water near Brant Lake, Pharaoh Lake Wilderness is 20 minutes east.
Snake Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a bushwhack destination or a map curiosity than as a fishing or paddling target. No fish species on record, no formal trail access, no established campsites. These kinds of minor ponds often serve as waypoints for hunters, trappers, or off-trail navigators working between better-known waters — functional features in the working forest rather than recreational destinations. If you're headed that way, bring a compass and a reason.
The Springs is a 2-acre pond in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it lives in the gap between local knowledge and the hiking guides, which usually means private land, old easements, or a put-in that requires asking around. No fish species on record, no nearby peaks, no formal trail system in the database — this is either a working pond with a quiet reputation or a name that predates the DEC lean-to era and never made it onto the recreation maps. If you're looking for it, start with the town clerk's office or the older USGS quads; sometimes these small waters only show up in the survey lines.
Mud Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that access details are scarce in the public record. No fish species data on file, which usually means either no stocking history or water too shallow and silty to hold trout through summer drawdown. The name tells the story: expect soft bottom, emergent grasses, and the kind of quiet that comes from being off the casual hiking grid. Worth a look if you're already deep in the surrounding forest; otherwise, this one's for the completists.
Hunter Pond is a small two-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Lake Placid region — minimal surface area, no documented fishery, and no obvious trailhead or public access infrastructure that registers in the DEC inventory. It's the kind of water that shows up on USGS quads but rarely in trip reports: either landlocked by private holdings, or remote enough that paddlers and anglers route around it. Without species data or a known put-in, it exists more as a cartographic footnote than a destination. If you're hunting for quiet water in the Lake Placid area, you're better off with Copperas, Owen, or Oseetah — all of which offer confirmed access and something swimming below the surface.
Bog Pond is a 2-acre pocket of water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely lives up to its name, with soft edges and shallow zones where lily pads and sedge take over by midsummer. No fish data on record, which tracks for waters this size in marshy basins where winter oxygen levels drop and trout can't hold year-round. These off-grid ponds tend to be the domain of dragonflies, wood ducks, and the occasional beaver lodge rather than anglers — worth a paddle if you're already in the area and curious, but not a destination on its own.
Grass Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — the kind of small, named feature that shows up on USGS quads but rarely in guidebooks. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means it's either too shallow to hold trout through winter or it's been off the DEC radar long enough that any brookies are purely wild holdovers. Waters this size in the Saranac Lake area tend to be tucked into mixed hardwood lowlands or spruce flats, accessed by old logging roads or unmarked footpaths if they're accessible at all. If you're looking for it, start with the DEC Unit Management Plan for the region — it'll clarify whether there's legal public access or if this one's landlocked by private parcels.
Grass Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and the kind of place that only shows up on detailed USGS quads. No fish stocking records, no formal access trail in the DEC inventory, which puts it in that category of Adirondack waters that exist more as waypoints for through-hikers or hunting-season destinations than as recreational targets. If you're looking for solitude and already know how to get there, Grass Pond delivers; if you're planning a first trip to the region, this isn't the water to start with.
Silver Dollar Pond is one of the smaller named waters in the Old Forge area — two acres tucked into the working forest south of the Fulton Chain, part of the sprawl of ponds, bogs, and beaver meadows that fill the lowlands between the tourist corridor and the West Canada Creek watershed. No public access data on file, no fish stocking records, no trail register — which usually means either private holdings or a put-in so obscure it's known only to locals with canoes and patience. If you're set on fishing it, start with the Town of Webb office or a topo map and a morning to bushwhack.
Hitchins Pond is a two-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough that it lives in the gaps between the named trailheads and the paddling routes that define the region. No fish survey data on file with DEC, which for a pond this size usually means limited depth, soft bottom, possible winter kill, or simply that no one has bothered to document what swims there. It's the kind of water that shows up on the quad map but not in the guidebooks — worth knowing if you're studying the drainage between bigger lakes or piecing together a bushwhack route, but not a destination on its own. If you're in the area and have local beta, it's worth a look; otherwise, this one stays quiet by default.
Little Howard Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Paradox Lake region — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational maps and remote enough that access details aren't well documented in public trail registers. No fish species on record, no nearby peaks, no established camping infrastructure — this is the kind of water that exists primarily as a cartographic footnote and a destination for bushwhackers willing to navigate by topo line and compass bearing. If you're looking for a named water with a trailhead and a lean-to, keep driving; if you're the type who enjoys finding unmarked ponds just to say you stood there, bring your GPS coordinates and a sense of humor about what counts as a destination.
Stewart Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar, and lacking the fish-stocking records that pull anglers to larger nearby waters. Ponds this size in the central Adirondacks often sit tucked into private or mixed-use timberland, accessed by unmarked logging roads or simply overlooked in favor of the Fourth Lake / Fulton Chain corridor that dominates the region's paddling and fishing traffic. Without public access infrastructure or a DEC campsite designation, Stewart functions more as a named point on the map than a destination — the kind of water that only locals with permission or long memory actually visit. Check the DEC's public access atlas before bushwhacking.
Pitcher Pond is a 2-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it won't appear on most road atlases, and likely tucked into private or semi-private land given the lack of public record on access or fish stocking. Ponds this size in the Saranac Lake area often sit along old logging roads or between camps, sometimes fishable by local knowledge but rarely promoted for public use. Without documented access or species data, this one lives in that gray zone between named water and local secret. If you're asking about Pitcher Pond, you probably already know how to get there.
Bell Mountain Pond is a two-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it likely doesn't appear on most road atlases, and remote enough that it's escaped the DEC fish stocking program entirely. No species data on record suggests either true inaccessibility or water chemistry that won't hold trout, though ponds this size in the southern Adirondacks sometimes harbor wild brookies in the inlet feeder if there's cold groundwater. Without maintained trail access or nearby peaks to anchor a day hike, this is the kind of water that exists on the map more than in common use. Worth a look if you're already deep in the Indian Lake backcountry and hunting for solitude.
Murrey Pond is a two-acre water in Keene — small enough to slip off most maps, which is usually the point. No fish data on file, no developed access, no nearby peak trailheads to anchor it in the usual High Peaks navigation grid. The name suggests old family land or a long-gone logging camp; the size suggests a spring-fed bowl worth finding if you're the type who measures success in ponds per season rather than summits per weekend.
Dewitt Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Speculator region — small enough that it likely functions more as a wetland complex than a fishing destination, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational radar. No fish data on record, which for a pond this size usually means minimal depth, heavy vegetation, or both. If you're headed this way, you're either bushwhacking with a topo map or stumbling onto it during a longer route — this isn't a trailhead-to-shore access pond. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious about what two acres of Adirondack water looks like when nobody's managing it.
Pansy Pond is a two-acre pocket of water tucked into the Old Forge township — small enough that it registers more as a widening in a wetland corridor than a named destination, but it carries a survey pin and appears on the DEC inventory all the same. No fish data on record, which typically means either seasonal drawdown, shallow muck bottom, or both — the kind of water that holds frogs and dragonflies but not much else. Old Forge proper is dense with better-documented paddling (the Fulton Chain, Fourth Lake access, the Moose River Plains gates), so Pansy functions more as a map curiosity than a launch point. If you're nearby and hunting for solitude over size, it's worth a look — but confirm access and conditions locally before committing to the bushwhack.
Canal Basin Park is a two-acre pond tucked into the heart of Old Forge village — more of a municipal quiet-water feature than a backcountry destination, but part of the Fulton Chain watershed that defines the western edge of the park. The basin serves as a low-key put-in for paddlers testing gear before committing to the bigger lakes, and it's rimmed by groomed parkland that makes it one of the few named waters in the region where you can launch a kayak without a trail approach. No fish data on record, which likely means it's treated more as ornamental water than fishable habitat. If you're overnighting in Old Forge and need an hour of flat water before breakfast, this is the answer.
The Glens Falls Feeder Canal is a 2-acre remnant of the 1832 waterway that once carried logs and supplies from the Hudson River to the Champlain Canal — now a narrow, quiet strip of water threading through the southeastern edge of the Adirondack Park boundary. It's not wilderness water: you're in village context here, with road access and walking paths along the towpath, more urban greenway than backcountry destination. No fish data on record, no peaks in sight, no designated camping — this is the kind of water that matters more to local historians and morning joggers than to paddlers or anglers. If you're passing through Glens Falls en route to Lake George, the canal offers a five-minute glimpse of the working-water history that built the southern Adirondacks before tourism did.
Why Pond is a two-acre pocket tucked into the Old Forge working forest — small enough that it doesn't register on most recreation radars, and remote enough that getting there means committing to a woods walk without marked trails or DEC signage. The name suggests an old surveyor's notation or a logger's inside joke, but no record explains it. No fish stocking history, no established campsites, no reason to visit unless you're the type who finds satisfaction in knowing a place exists simply because it does. Bring a compass and a topo — cell service out here is theoretical.
Springhill Ponds — two acres, tucked into the low country west of Paradox Lake — is one of those named waters that exists more on the DEC inventory than in common paddling conversation. No public access route appears on the standard trail maps, and the ponds sit on what reads as private or landlocked parcels in a region better known for Paradox Lake itself and the string of bigger waters along NY-74. If you're sorting through the region's options, this is a cartographic footnote rather than a destination — the kind of water that matters to the landowner and the beaver colony, but not much to anyone planning a weekend trip.
Porkbarrel Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up on recreational radar, and likely named in the old Adirondack tradition of wry geographic humor. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either intermittent winter oxygen levels or simply a pond too small and shallow to hold a fishery worth managing. Without established trails or nearby peaks, this is the kind of water you'd stumble onto while bushwhacking between bigger destinations, or find referenced in a surveyor's log. Worth a look if you're already in the area with a map and a compass — otherwise, it's more footnote than feature.
Dundan Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Keene town boundary — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational lists and remote enough that access details stay mostly word-of-mouth. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means either sterile water or native brookies that nobody bothers reporting. The pond sits in the mid-elevation forest belt typical of the Keene back country: mixed hardwoods, wet margins, and the kind of quiet that comes from being off the standard loop. If you know how to get there, you already know why you're going.
Oval Pond is a 2-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than paddlers, and the kind of place that only gets attention from locals who know the access or hunters working the surrounding timber. No fish data on record, which usually means it's either too shallow to winter-kill brook trout or nobody's bothered to sample it in decades. The name tells you the shape; the acreage tells you it's a detour, not a destination. Worth knowing about if you're already in the area and looking for solitude, but this isn't the pond you drive two hours to find.
Fifth Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Keene township — small enough that it likely doesn't register on most trail maps, and remote enough that it exists in the gap between the named routes and the DEC lean-to circuit. No fish species data on record, which in the Adirondacks usually means either too shallow for winter survival or too far off the stocking routes to justify the hike. The name suggests it's part of a numbered chain — First through Fifth, or Third through Seventh — but without a clear trailhead reference, this one lives in the category of bushwhack destinations and local knowledge. If you're headed in, bring a topo and a compass.
Dial Pond is a 2-acre pocket of water in the Keene area — small enough that it's easy to miss on a map, and without fish stocking records or developed access, it's the kind of water that stays off most itineraries. The name suggests some connection to the nearby Nippletop / Dial Mountain corridor, though whether it drains toward the Ausable or sits in a separate watershed isn't immediately obvious from the contours. Waters this size in the High Peaks region are often seasonal snowmelt collectors or beaver-maintained wetlands rather than permanent ponds — worth verifying current conditions before planning a visit. No formal trails or lean-tos are associated with it.
Hovey Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational fishing reports and quiet enough that it stays off the summer lake-hopping circuit. No maintained trail infrastructure or designated camping, and no fish stocking records in the DEC database, which means it functions more as a landscape feature than a destination. The kind of pond you pass on a bushwhack or notice from a ridgeline and file away as a landmark rather than a place to paddle or cast a line.
Three Ponds sits in the southern Adirondacks near the Great Sacandaga Lake basin — a small, two-acre water that falls into the category of named ponds without much public documentation. No fish species on DEC record, no marked trail access in the standard guidebooks, and no nearby peaks to anchor a hiking route. These are the waters that show up on the USGS quad but rarely see a canoe — either privately held, landlocked by forest, or simply too shallow and weedy to draw attention. If you're looking for a destination pond in this region, the reservoir shoreline and its feeder tributaries are the safer bet.
Bloody Pond is a 2-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that most topographic maps mark it but most hikers don't think twice about it. The name carries a grim historical echo common to several Adirondack waters: colonial-era battle sites where soldiers were buried or wounded washed in the shallows, though specifics here have blurred with time. No fish species on record, no formal trail access noted in DEC databases — it reads more like a named wetland than a destination pond. If you're sorting Lake George backcountry options, this one lives in the footnotes.
L.D. Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Speculator network — small enough that it likely sees more moose than anglers, and remote enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational inventories. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no DEC campsites — the kind of water that exists more as a cartographic marker than a destination. These minor ponds scatter across the southern Adirondacks by the hundreds, most of them unnamed, some of them spring-fed and tannic, a few holding wild brookies that arrived by stream connection decades ago. Worth knowing it's there if you're bushwhacking the drainage or studying a topo map, but not worth planning a trip around.
Rock Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sits tucked in second-growth forest off a logging road or seasonal access track, rather than on any maintained trail system. No fish stocking records and no nearby peaks means this is working forest land, not High Peaks corridor: the kind of water that shows up on a DeLorme but not in a hiking guide. If you're looking for it, you're either hunting, surveying timber, or chasing the satisfaction of visiting every named water in the Park. Bring a compass and the correct quad map.
Partlow Milldam is a two-acre pond in the Raquette Lake region — a mill remnant that tells the story of early logging infrastructure in a part of the Park where settlement preceded conservation. The name telegraphs its origin: a working dam that likely powered a sawmill in the late 1800s, when Raquette Lake was a timber hub and these small ponds dotted the woods around camps and lumber operations. No fish species data on file, and at two acres it's more likely a seasonal holdover pool than a managed fishery. Best approached as local history rather than a destination — the kind of water you find on a bushwhack or while poking around old timber roads.
Lower Pit is a two-acre pond in the Indian Lake region — small enough that it barely registers on most maps, and remote enough that it stays off the casual paddler's radar. No fish data on record, no maintained trails leading to the shoreline, and no nearby peaks to frame the view — this is backcountry water for orienteering types or hunters who know the drainage. The name suggests old quarry or logging history, but without a clear access point or a reason to bushwhack in, Lower Pit remains what it sounds like: a footnote pond in a township full of bigger, easier options. If you're already back there, you know why you came.
Deer Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it lives in the category of places you find by asking around rather than consulting a trail map. No fish data on record, which likely means it's been passed over by DEC survey crews in favor of larger, more accessible waters in the drainage. Ponds this size in the Schroon Lake corridor tend to sit on private land or in transition zones between state forest and private holdings, so confirm access before you bushwhack. If it's open, expect shallow warm water, lily pads by mid-June, and a reliable afternoon hatch.
Readway Ponds — two small kettle ponds in the Tupper Lake lowlands — sit in mixed hardwood-conifer forest north of the main village corridor, part of the scattered wetland complexes that define the northern Adirondack terrain. The ponds are linked by shallow channel flow and surrounded by brushy shoreline; access details are sparse, likely requiring navigation through private or undeveloped land without formal trail infrastructure. No fish stocking records on file, though shallow northern ponds like these sometimes hold stunted brook trout or fallfish populations that arrived during spring flood pulses. Best approached with local knowledge and a float tube if you're curious about unmapped water.
Midget Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that if you're looking at it, you either stumbled onto it or you meant to be there. No fish data on record, which at this acreage usually means shallow, weedy, or both — the kind of pond that matters more to the watershed than to the angler. Worth noting if you're hunting vernal pools or doing wetland inventory work, otherwise a dot on the map that stays a dot.
Scribner Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Keene town boundary — small enough that it rarely shows up on trail maps and quiet enough that most through-hikers miss it entirely. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing at all, and the shallow basin suggests it runs warm by mid-July. The pond sits in mixed hardwood cover, far enough from the High Peaks corridor that it doesn't pull weekend crowds, close enough to Keene Valley that locals know it as a low-effort bushwhack or a short unmarked approach. Best use: early-season reconnaissance, off-trail navigation practice, or a reason to get wet without company.
Slough Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more attention from locals cutting through the woods than from anyone planning a destination trip. No fish stocking records on file, and at that size it's either a seasonal brook trout holdover or effectively fishless depending on winter severity and beaver activity. The name suggests wetland margins and soft shoreline — classic Adirondack lowland topography where the water table sits high and the forest floor stays spongy into July. Worth a look if you're already in the area and curious, but keep expectations modest.
Crandall Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it rarely shows up on general recreational maps and likely functions more as a local feature than a fishing or paddling destination. No fish species data on record, which usually means either the pond hasn't been surveyed in decades or it doesn't hold a reliable trout population worth stocking. Without curated access points or nearby trail infrastructure, this is the kind of water you'd encounter while bushwhacking property lines or scanning old USGS quads — present on paper, quiet in practice.
Lost Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Schroon Lake region — small enough that it lives up to its name if you're not looking for it, and quiet enough that most people who pass through the area never make the effort. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trail infrastructure, no lean-to — this is the kind of water that exists for its own sake, not for overnight trips or angling pressure. If you're in the area and have a free hour, it's worth the bushwhack for the solitude alone, but don't expect facilities or a well-worn path to the shore.
Winslow Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a local landmark or a fishing curiosity than as a paddling destination. No fish species on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed in recent years or it doesn't hold much of a population worth documenting. The Great Sacandaga corridor is reservoir country, so smaller natural ponds like this one tend to sit quietly in the margins, known mostly to hunters, snowmobilers, and anyone walking old logging roads. Worth a look if you're already in the area; otherwise, it's the kind of water that stays off most itineraries.
Lost Pond lives up to its name — two acres tucked somewhere in the Tupper Lake township with no fish surveys on file and no formal trail record in the DEC inventory. It's the kind of water that shows up on a USGS quad but not in any paddling guide, likely landlocked by private timber company holdings or accessible only via bushwhack and local knowledge. Without stocking records or angler reports, it's either too shallow to hold trout year-round or simply too far off the grid to draw attention. If you know where it is, you probably already know whether it's worth the walk.
Ryan Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it likely holds more interest as a bushwhack destination or a name on the map than as a fishing or paddling objective. No fish stocking records, no formal trail access, no DEC lean-tos or campsites in the immediate vicinity. The kind of water that shows up on the quad but doesn't generate much foot traffic — worth knowing about if you're piecing together wetland corridors or exploring unmapped corners of a larger tract, but not a destination pond in the conventional sense.
Iroquois Lock is a 2-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that most paddlers would call it a wide spot in a creek rather than a destination water. The name suggests canal-era infrastructure, likely tied to the log-drive days when timber moved through this drainage toward the mills, though the lock itself (if it ever functioned as such) is long gone or overgrown. No fish data on file, no maintained access that would show up on a DEC map. If you're poking around Tupper Lake's backcountry and stumble onto it, you've earned a footnote — but this isn't a put-in you'd plan a trip around.
Readway Ponds — two small basins totaling about two acres — sit in the working forest east of Tupper Lake, tucked into a landscape of private timberland and unmapped two-tracks where public access is ambiguous at best. No DEC fisheries data on record, no marked trailhead, no lean-to within shouting distance — this is the kind of water that shows up on the quad map but rarely sees a canoe. If you're determined to find it, expect bushwhacking, posted signs, and the likelihood that you've driven past better options. The ponds are there; whether you can legally get to them is another question entirely.
Lilypad Ponds is a two-acre water tucked somewhere in the Raquette Lake township — the kind of small pond that shows up on a topo map but rarely gets a trail sign or a mention in guidebooks. The name suggests a shallow basin with emergent vegetation, likely beaver-maintained, and the modest acreage means it's more backcountry detour than destination. No fish species data on record, which typically indicates limited public access or minimal angling pressure — or both. If you're poking around the Raquette Lake drainage on foot, it's worth a compass bearing; otherwise, this one stays quiet.
Little Rankin Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational maps and remote enough that access details remain local knowledge. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brook trout if anything, or just a cold-water swimming hole tucked into second-growth hardwoods. The Indian Lake region runs deep with old logging roads and unmaintained trail systems; ponds this size were often tie-in points for timber operations or hunting camps in the early 20th century. If you're headed out there, bring a GPS track and confirm access with the town clerk or a local outfitter — this one won't have trail signs.
Lower Cacner Pond is a two-acre pocket water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it won't appear on most road atlases, and remote enough that access details are scarce in the public record. No fish species data on file with DEC, which often signals either limited stocking history or a pond that doesn't hold trout through summer oxygen drops. The Great Sacandaga corridor is a patchwork of private land and small public parcels, so assume gated roads and posted shoreline unless you're working from a current county tax map. Worth a look if you're already in the area with a canoe and a tolerance for bushwhacking — but call this one a question mark until you scout it in person.
Jenkins Pond is a 2-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough that it likely sits tucked in the forest between larger named waters or along a seasonal drainage, the kind of pond that appears on topographic maps but rarely in trip reports. No fish species data on record suggests either marginal habitat or simply that no one's bothered to document what swims there; beaver activity and seasonal depth shifts are the usual culprits in ponds this size. Without maintained trail access or established campsites, Jenkins Pond reads as a bushwhack destination or a local landmark — worth noting on a map, but not a place you'd paddle to on purpose unless you already know why you're going.
Duck Ponds is a two-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it lives in the gaps of most trail maps and quiet enough that it stays that way. The name suggests multiple lobes or basins, though at this size it's more likely a single shallow body with irregular shoreline or seasonal wetland margins. No fish data on record, which at two acres usually means minimal depth, heavy vegetation, or both — better frog habitat than trout water. Access details are sparse, but waters this size in the Saranac Lake orbit are often old log-drive remnants or the back corners of larger trail systems.
Buddy Pond is a one-acre pocket of water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than motorboats, and remote enough that no fish species data has made it into the DEC records. Waters this size in the southern Adirondacks tend to be tucked into second-growth forest off old logging roads or colonial-era settlement routes, accessible but not advertised. If you're looking for it, bring a topo map and expect to bushwhack the last quarter-mile — ponds under five acres rarely come with marked trails or designated campsites.
Schuylerville Basin is a one-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it rarely shows up on recreational planning unless you're already standing near it. No fish species on record, no nearby peaks to anchor a hike, and the name suggests a functional origin more than a destination pond. If you're mapping every named water in the park, this one counts; if you're planning a weekend, you'll pass it on the way to somewhere else.
Mahan Pond is a one-acre pocket water in the Old Forge town sprawl — small enough that it barely registers on most recreation maps, but it's there, tucked into the working landscape between Route 28 corridor development and the larger Fulton Chain system to the north. No fish stocking records, no formal access points, no reason to paddle it unless you're cataloging every named water in Herkimer County or you live within sight of it. This is filler habitat — the kind of pond that exists because the glaciers left a depression and the alders filled in around it.
