Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Blackfoot Pond is a 31-acre water in the Old Forge area without much published data — no fish species on record, no trailhead chatter, no obvious presence in the standard guidebooks. That absence says something: it's either private, landlocked by posted timber company land, or it's simply been passed over by the DEC stocking program and the paddling crowd in favor of the bigger, more accessible waters that define the Fulton Chain corridor. If you know how to reach it, it's likely quiet. If you don't, assume it's not meant for casual access until you confirm otherwise with a local outfitter or the nearest DEC ranger.
Siamese Ponds sits in the southern Adirondacks near Indian Lake — a 31-acre water that shares its name with the better-known Siamese Ponds Wilderness to the east, but occupies quieter, less-trafficked country. The pond is part of a modest cluster of backcountry waters in the region, the kind of place where solitude is more reliable than the fishing reports. Access details are sparse in the state's online records, which usually means either private inholdings or an unsigned, local-knowledge approach — worth a stop at the Indian Lake town office or the Hamilton County tourism desk before you commit to the drive. No fish species on file, no nearby peaks flagged in the DEC database.
Trout Pond is a 31-acre water tucked in the Keene township — not to be confused with the dozen other Trout Ponds scattered across the Park, each claiming the name for the same predictable reason. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor but still in the gravitational pull of Keene Valley, which makes it less of a weekender magnet than the roadside pull-offs on NY-73. No fish species data on file with DEC, though the name suggests brook trout at some point in its stocking history — or just wishful thinking by an optimistic surveyor. Access and trail details aren't widely documented, which usually means either private land complications or a bushwhack situation; call the Keene town office or stop by the Mountaineer in town for local beta.
Lilypad Pond is a 31-acre water in the Long Lake township — small enough to be out of the spotlight, large enough to hold a few quiet hours in a canoe or kayak. The name telegraphs the obvious: expect a soft-edged pond with vegetation working its way in from the margins, the kind of place that fishes better early season before the pads thicken. No fish species data on record, which in the Long Lake region often means unstocked and undersampled rather than fishless — worth a cast with a streamer or a popper if you're already here. Access details aren't widely documented, so confirm put-in options locally before making the drive.
Hardigan Pond is a 31-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — part of the sprawling network of ponds and wetlands west of the main lake itself. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout in low numbers or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown. Access details are sparse in the standard trail databases, suggesting either private inholdings along the shore or a bushwhack approach through state land — worth confirming ownership and access with the local DEC ranger before planning a trip. If you're poking around this drainage, bring a map: the Raquette Lake quad is dense with unmarked ponds and old logging roads that don't always appear on phone screens.
Palmer Pond is a 31-acre water in the Brant Lake region — small enough to canoe in an afternoon, large enough to feel separate from the road noise. No fish species on state record, which likely means it's been surveyed and came up empty, or it's holding brookies too small or too few to warrant stocking attention. Access details are scarce in the public datasets, suggesting either private shoreline or a local-knowledge put-in that hasn't made it onto the DEC's formal access roster. If you're in the area and see a trail or a launch, assume you're looking at either posted land or a town-managed site — check signage before you unload the boat.
Rock Pond is a 31-acre water in the Blue Mountain Lake town — not to be confused with the other Rock Ponds scattered across the Park, this one sits in the central Adirondacks where the landscape opens up between the big lakes and the forested interior. No fish species data on record, which typically means either limited angling pressure or a pond that doesn't hold viable populations — worth confirming with DEC before you haul a rod in. The name suggests the obvious: expect rocky shoreline and structure, likely some ledge drop-offs if you're paddling or swimming. Check local access at Blue Mountain Lake village or the visitor center — many smaller ponds in this township require either private permission or unmarked approaches through working forestland.
Thirsty Pond is a 30-acre water in the Old Forge corridor — small enough to stay off most radar, large enough to hold a canoe route worth paddling. No fish data on record, which usually means it's either drawn down seasonally, shallow and weedy, or stocked so irregularly that DEC stopped tracking it — or all three. The name suggests it might dry to mudflats by late summer in drought years, a common pattern for ponds in this elevation band that depend on snowmelt and spring runoff more than groundwater. Worth a look in May or June if you're camping nearby and want an hour of quiet water before the Old Forge lake traffic picks up.
Bear Pond covers 30 acres in the St. Regis Canoe Area — carry-in only from St. Regis or Bog Pond. Native brook trout and primitive sites, with light use even mid-summer.
Fish Pond sits in the Old Forge area — a 30-acre bowl that carries the kind of generic name that signals either early surveyor pragmatism or a long-term reputation for decent fishing, now unverified by recent stocking or creel records. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked wild brookies or a pond that winterkills in lean snow years. The Old Forge corridor is dense with ponds, lakes, and interconnected paddling routes; Fish Pond likely fits into that web, though access details and trail conditions vary widely across the township. Worth a scouting trip if you're already in the area with a canoe and a taste for the anonymous.
Diana Pond is a 30-acre water in the Old Forge area — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to paddle without circling every ten minutes. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means it's either too shallow for trout or it's holding populations nobody's bothered to survey and report. The pond sits in the working recreation zone west of the High Peaks, where the landscape opens up into bigger stretches of softwood lowland and the access questions tend to sort themselves by vehicle clearance and local knowledge. If you're headed that direction, confirm access and parking with the local ranger station or a nearby outfitter — Old Forge waters can be deceptively private or deceptively easy depending on which turn you take.
Duck Hole is a 30-acre pond in the Cold River backcountry, reached only by multi-day backpack on the Northville-Placid Trail. The historic dam washed out in 2011; what remains is a smaller basin with lean-tos and full wilderness solitude.
Thurber Pond is a 30-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to stay off the radar, large enough to feel like more than a roadside puddle. No fish species data on record, which usually means it's either too shallow for stocking programs or it holds native brook trout that nobody's bothered to survey. The name suggests old timber-era use (Thurber was a common surname among 19th-century logging foremen in Warren County), but beyond that the pond keeps its secrets. Best approach: check the DEC Lake George Wild Forest unit map for access routes — most ponds in this district connect to the trail system via unmarked woods roads or seasonal foot traffic.
Clear Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that the name likely describes what you see, common enough that half the ponds in the park could claim it. No fish data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed in decades or it's too shallow, too acidic, or too tannic to hold anything worth catching. The kind of pond that shows up on a USGS quad, earns a pushpin on the map, and waits for someone with a canoe and a free afternoon to tell the rest of us what's actually there. If you know the access or the backstory, it's worth sharing — these quiet 30-acre ponds are often the best-kept secrets in the park.
Twin Ponds sits in the Old Forge township — a pair of modest thirty-acre basins that carry the name but little of the traffic that follows the bigger fishing and paddling destinations in the Fulton Chain corridor. No formal fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing, and the access situation is unclear enough that most anglers and paddlers skip it for more obvious put-ins. The ponds likely see their heaviest use from snowmobilers in winter, when the Old Forge trail network opens up back-basin water that's otherwise hemmed in by private land. If you know how to reach it, you've already talked to someone local.
Mountain Pond is a 30-acre water in the Lake Placid region with no public access data on file and no fish species formally recorded by DEC surveys — which usually means either private land or a pond tucked behind enough terrain that it doesn't pull fishing pressure. The name suggests elevation, but without trailhead or lean-to references in the state database, this is likely a backcountry water reached by bushwhack or a pond that straddles private/public boundaries. If you're chasing unmapped water, cross-reference the DEC Unit Management Plan for the subunit and check property lines; otherwise, this one stays off the list until access is confirmed.
Cranberry Pond is a 30-acre water in the Indian Lake town corridor — small enough to feel private, large enough to paddle for an hour without retracing your stroke. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means native brook trout or nothing at all; the DEC hasn't surveyed it in recent memory. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and spruce country, characteristic of the south-central Adirondacks where the terrain flattens out and the water stays dark with tannins. Access details are sparse — check with the Indian Lake town office or local outfitters for current put-in points and whether the shoreline is state land or private lease.
Deer Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region with no public fish stocking records and limited information on public access — one of those mid-sized ponds that shows up on the DEC map but hasn't developed a reputation among anglers or paddlers. The name suggests historical use (deer yarding area, hunting camp), and the acreage is large enough to paddle but small enough to feel remote if you can find your way in. Worth checking the DEC Unit Management Plan for the tract if you're in the area and curious — sometimes these quieter waters hold wild brookies or offer a put-in for exploratory paddling. Confirm access and parking before you drive; not every named water in the Park has a marked trailhead.
Cummings Pond is a 30-acre pocket water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — low-elevation, accessible country outside the Blue Line's dense core. No fish species data on file, which usually means it's either never been stocked or the surveys are decades old; worth a call to the regional DEC office if you're planning to wet a line. The Great Sacandaga corridor runs more to motorboats and summer camps than backwoods solitude, so Cummings likely sits in mixed-use territory — old logging roads, seasonal camps, and the kind of access that requires asking around locally. If you're planning a trip, confirm access and current conditions before you load the canoe.
John Pond is a 30-acre backcountry pond reached via the Kings Flow trail system, with a lean-to and the historic John Pond grave site on the approach. Brook trout water, lightly fished.
Lost Pond is a 30-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — quiet country east of I-87, where the ridgelines flatten and the paddling culture tilts toward canoes and family camps rather than trail miles. No fish data on file with DEC, which often signals limited access or marginal habitat, but ponds this size in the Paradox drainage tend to hold warmwater species if they're thermally suited. The name suggests either an old surveyor's note or the kind of local shorthand that sticks when a pond sits back from the road and doesn't make it onto the summer circuit. Worth checking county tax maps or the Paradox Lake Association for access intel if you're exploring the area.
Springhill Ponds is a 30-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — low-profile enough that specific access and fishery data remain scarce in the public record. The name suggests old settlement-era geography (spring-fed headwaters, likely), and the Paradox Lake corridor has long been a mix of private inholdings and state land where trail access can be inconsistent or unmarked. Without confirmed DEC stocking records or a documented trailhead, this is the kind of pond that rewards local knowledge more than a GPS pin. If you're chasing it, start with the town clerk in Schroon or a topo map — and expect to ask questions at the nearest year-round address.
L Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — one of those named ponds that exists more as a cartographic footnote than a destination. No fish survey data on file, no established access trail in the DEC inventory, no lean-to or campsite designations — which usually means either private shoreline, difficult bushwhack approach, or both. Worth checking the county tax maps and a current topo before assuming you can get there; in this part of the park, a blue line on the map doesn't guarantee public access to the water.
McCavanaugh Pond is a 30-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to fly under most paddlers' radar, quiet enough to keep it that way. No stocking records and no public access data in the DEC files, which usually means either private shoreline or a put-in that requires local knowledge and a willingness to bushwhack. The Tupper Lake area holds dozens of ponds like this one: tucked into working forest land, visible from a logging road or a high point, reachable if you know where to look. If you're determined to fish it, start with the town assessor's parcel map and a conversation at a local tackle shop.
Little Sucker Brook is a 30-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of those named waters that appears on the map but lacks the infrastructure or fish stocking records that pull consistent traffic. The name suggests it drains into a larger system (likely connecting to Raquette River drainage), but without maintained access or documented fishery data, it sits in that middle category: not remote enough to be a bushwhack destination, not developed enough to be a family picnic spot. These are the waters that locals know by happenstance — a grouse hunter's landmark, a canoe route checkpoint, a place you pass through rather than arrive at. If you're poking around the Tupper backcountry and stumble onto it, you'll have it to yourself.
Copperas Pond sits in a small bowl off NY-86 between Lake Placid and Wilmington — a 0.6-mile hike from the highway trailhead and one of the most accessible quiet ponds in the High Peaks corridor. Three primitive DEC-designated tent sites line the shoreline; the Eastern Shore site, set on a flat granite shelf at the water's edge, is the prize. The pond connects to Owen Pond (south) and Winch Pond (east) via a 2.1-mile loop trail — a classic family hike and a sensible basecamp for day-hiking Cascade, Porter, or Pitchoff. Brook trout in the pond; brookies and the occasional rainbow in the connector streams. On Memorial Day weekend the three sites are claimed by Friday afternoon.
Gull Lakes — plural, though the name reads singular on most maps — sits in the Raquette Lake Wild Forest, a pair of connected ponds tucked into working forest land southwest of the main Raquette basin. Access is unmaintained or private-land-adjacent; this is not a trailhead-and-signpost destination, and most paddlers who know it reach it by old logging roads or by poking around the upper tributaries during high water. No fish data on file with DEC, no designated campsites, no foot traffic to speak of — which makes it exactly the kind of water that gets claimed by hunters in October and left alone the rest of the year.
Greenfield Pond is a 29-acre water on the Tupper Lake outskirts — small enough to disappear on most maps, large enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked private water or a pond that's been off the angling radar long enough that DEC surveys moved on. The name suggests old farmland edges or a long-gone settlement clearing, common in this stretch of the northern Adirondacks where working forests and hamlet roads still define the landscape more than wilderness corridors. Access details are scarce — if you're heading out, confirm ownership and entry points locally before you load the canoe.
Lake Forest is a 29-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough to be overlooked in a watershed dominated by the big lake itself, but exactly the kind of water that rewards locals who know where the quiet pockets are. No fish species data on record, which often means limited angling pressure or a pond that freezes out periodically; either way, it stays off the stocking lists and off most fishing maps. The name suggests residential shoreline or private-association history — common in the Lake George corridor where mid-century development claimed a lot of the smaller waters. Check county maps or the DEC public access inventory before paddling; these transition-zone ponds often sit in the gray area between public wild forest and private lakeshore.
Hitchcock Pond is a 29-acre water tucked into the Old Forge corridor — small enough to stay off most touring routes, large enough to hold a decent shoreline if you're willing to bushwhack or paddle in. No maintained trail, no DEC campsite designation, no stocking records in the file — this is the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map and rewards the curious paddler more than the planner. The Old Forge area is laced with interconnected ponds and carries; Hitchcock sits in that network without being a marquee stop on any of the classic routes. If you're already on the water nearby and want to poke around, it's there — but it won't announce itself.
Green Pond is a 29-acre backcountry water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel remote, large enough to hold a solo paddler's attention for an afternoon. No formal fish records on file, but that's the story with a lot of interior ponds that don't see regular stocking or survey attention; local anglers know what's there, or they bring their own assumptions and a spinning rod. Access details are sparse in the official record, which usually means either a bushwhack or a local-knowledge approach from an unmarked trailhead. Worth checking DEC's online database or stopping at a Tupper Lake outfitter for current intel on how to get in.
Sand Pond is a 29-acre stillwater tucked into the woods near Long Lake — small enough to skip the crowds, large enough to paddle a loop without circling back on yourself too quickly. No fish data on record, which usually means it's either too shallow and weedy for trout or it's been overlooked by DEC survey crews for decades; either way, it's more of a quiet-morning paddle than a fishing destination. Access details are sparse — typical for the smaller named ponds in the Long Lake corridor that sit a half-mile or more off the main routes. If you're poking around the dirt roads west of NY-30 and see a trailhead sign, it's probably worth the walk in with a canoe on your shoulders.
Jones Pond is a 28-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel like a local spot, large enough to hold decent habitat in the bays and drop-offs. No fish species data on record, which suggests either minimal stocking history or simply a pond that hasn't been surveyed in recent decades; worth a reconnaissance trip with a canoe and a topographic map. The Tupper Lake Wild Forest holds dozens of ponds in this size range, many accessible by unmaintained logging roads or unmarked carry trails — Jones fits that pattern. If you're working through the lesser-known waters around Tupper, this is the kind of place you visit on a Tuesday in September when the loons have the lake to themselves.
Horseshoe Pond is a 28-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel private once you're on it. No formal fish stocking records on file, which typically means wild brookies or nothing at all; local knowledge runs stronger than DEC data for ponds this size. Access details aren't well-documented in the standard trail registries, so it's worth checking with the local DEC office or a Tupper Lake outfitter before planning a trip. These quiet, mid-size ponds often require a short bushwhack or an unmarked woods road — the kind of water that rewards persistence but doesn't advertise itself.
Cranberry Pond is a 28-acre pond in the Raquette Lake region — small enough to hold a quiet morning paddle, large enough to feel removed once you're on the water. The name suggests the shoreline character you'd expect: boggy edges, conifer fringe, the kind of water that holds its own temperature well into June. No fish species data on file, which typically means either natural fishless conditions or simply under-documented — common for ponds off the main paddling corridors in this part of the Park. Worth checking local access and parking before you go; not all ponds in the Raquette drainage have formal DEC trailheads or maintained put-ins.
Chub Pond is a 28-acre water tucked into the Brant Lake region — small enough to stay off most touring radars, large enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring by canoe or kayak. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means wild brookies or nothing at all; local anglers will know which. The pond sits in the transitional zone between the eastern High Peaks and the Lake George Wild Forest — less dramatic relief than the ranges to the west, more forested privacy than the resort corridor to the south. Access details are sparse in state records; if you're heading in, confirm the trailhead with the local DEC office or a Brant Lake outfitter before you commit the afternoon.
Little Moose Pond holds 28 acres in the Speculator area — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel remote once you're off the access point. No fish species data on file with DEC, which often means either unstocked native brookies or a pond that's cycled out; worth a cast if you're already there, but not a destination fishery. The name suggests proximity to a larger Moose Pond or Moose River drainage, a common naming pattern in the southern Adirondacks where "Little" marks the quieter, less-trafficked option. Check the latest DEC atlas for current access — ponds in this size range near Speculator often pull from the Sacandaga watershed and sit on mixed public-private land.
Gull Lakes — a pair of connected ponds tucked into the forest northwest of Raquette Lake proper — sit off the main boating and paddling circuits, more remote by feel than by actual distance. Access is by bushwhack or unmarked woods roads; this isn't a trailhead-and-sign destination, and the ponds see more use from hunters in fall than paddlers in summer. The water is tannic, shallow in places, ringed by mixed hardwoods and lowland conifers — classic Adirondack backcountry but without the draw of a named peak or a stocked fishery. If you're already camping on Raquette Lake and want a quiet explore with a topo map, Gull Lakes deliver solitude by default.
Lost Pond — 28 acres in the Tupper Lake region — is one of dozens of small waters in the northern Adirondacks that carry the "Lost" name, a label that tends to mean either genuinely remote or simply tucked off the main corridors. Without fish stocking records or established access noted in the DEC inventory, this is likely a put-in-work pond: bushwhack navigation, possible beaver flooding, and the kind of solitude that comes from being overlooked rather than hidden. The northern lakes region is laced with old logging roads and informal approaches; if you're serious about reaching Lost Pond, start with the DEC Unit Management Plan for the area and a compass bearing.
Bettner Ponds — 28 acres, plural name on the map but a single contiguous water — sits in the Long Lake township without the trailhead signage or DEC lean-to infrastructure that draws crowds to better-known ponds in the corridor. No fish species data on file, which usually means either unstocked and wild or too shallow to hold trout through summer — local knowledge would clarify which. The absence of formal access and the quiet reputation suggest this is a put-in-work destination: bushwhack, old logging road, or a local's canoe carry from a nearby lake system. Worth a conversation at the Long Lake hardware store before you load the boat.
Lawson Pond is a 28-acre water tucked into the Keene town boundaries — small enough to stay off most hikers' radar, large enough to hold its own character in a region dominated by High Peaks drainage. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing; worth a cast if you're already in the area, but not a destination for anglers. The pond sits in that middle-distance terrain between the tourist corridor and true backcountry — the kind of water that rewards local knowledge more than trail guidebooks. Access and shoreline conditions vary by season and private land boundaries; confirm before you go.
Davignon Pond is a small 28-acre water in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — quiet, off the radar, and typical of the mid-sized ponds that dot the southern Adirondacks without the traffic or infrastructure of the better-known destinations. No fish data on record suggests it's either unstocked or undersampled; either way, it's not a known angling target. The pond sits in an area where public access and trail information can be thin — worth a DEC land viewer check if you're curious, but don't expect marked trailheads or launch sites. This is the kind of place that shows up on a topo map and makes you wonder if anyone's been there in the last five years.
Bear Pond is a 28-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough to paddle in an afternoon, large enough to feel like more than a stopping point. The pond sits in the network of lakes and channels that make the Raquette drainage a classic canoe-camping zone, though Bear itself sees less traffic than the headline waters nearby. No fish species data on record, which either means it's been overlooked by DEC survey crews or it's one of those ponds where the habitat doesn't hold much past early spring. Access is by paddle route; check the Raquette Lake launch points and plan your connections accordingly.
Viele Pond is a 28-acre water tucked into the southern edge of the Adirondack Park in the Lake George region — small enough to hold its privacy, large enough to paddle without circling back on yourself in ten minutes. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked or under-surveyed; either way, it's more of a quiet-water destination than a fishing stop. The pond sits in the lower-elevation transition zone where the Park begins to blur into the valleys and farmland to the south — less dramatic than the High Peaks corridor, more accessible than the remote ponds in the central wilderness. Check local access and ownership before launching; many smaller ponds in this region sit on mixed public-private land.
North Pond sits west of Brant Lake in the southeastern Adirondacks — a 27-acre pond with no formal public access or curated detail in the state records, which usually means private shoreline or landlocked acreage with no trail. The fish species list is blank, which tracks: small ponds without documented stocking or access tend to drop off the DEC survey rotation. If you're poking around the Brant Lake area looking for public water, Pharaoh Lake Wilderness is 20 minutes north — 70-plus lakes and ponds, most with trail access and lean-tos.
Doctors Pond is a 27-acre water tucked into the woods near Long Lake — small enough to stay off most fishing pressure maps, large enough to feel like a destination if you're hunting solitude. No formal species data on file, which in this part of the park usually means wild brookies or nothing at all, and access details are thin enough that you'll want to ask locally or scout the parcel maps before committing gear to a bushwhack. The name suggests old settlement-era use — possibly a doctor's camp or private holding that's since reverted — but the pond's real value now is as a blank spot on the map in a region where blank spots are getting scarce. If you're in Long Lake and looking for water that doesn't come with a parking lot, this is the kind of place worth investigating.
John Mack Pond sits in the southern Adirondacks near Indian Lake — a 27-acre pond that hasn't attracted the same attention as the more prominent waters in the region. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either brook trout hold over naturally or the pond doesn't get fished enough to generate data. The pond is small enough to paddle in an afternoon but large enough to feel remote once you're out from shore. If you're heading this direction, confirm access locally — many of the smaller ponds in the Indian Lake area sit on mixed public and private land with informal or seasonal access arrangements.
Darning Needle Pond is a 27-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to be overlooked, which is often the point. The name suggests the kind of old surveyor's or logger's designation that stuck when nothing more official ever replaced it, and without maintained access or stocked fish on record, it sits in that middle category of Adirondack ponds: not remote enough to be a destination, not roadside enough to be convenient. Worth checking local topo maps or asking at a Tupper Lake outfitter if you're plotting a bushwhack or exploring the surrounding drainage by canoe. No data on brookies, but ponds this size in the region sometimes hold them if the inlet is cold and consistent.
Lake Easka is a 27-acre pond in the Old Forge area — small enough to paddle in an afternoon, large enough to feel like you've left the launch behind. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means it's either holding wild brookies that nobody's documenting or it's too shallow and warm for sustainable trout. The name carries a vaguely Iroquois or Algonquin ring, though the actual etymology is unclear — typical for the Fulton Chain watershed, where half the water names are contested or forgotten. Worth a look if you're working through the lesser-known put-ins around Old Forge, but call the local DEC office if you're serious about what's swimming below.
Mud Pond in Keene occupies 27 acres in a town dense with trailheads and named peaks, but this one sits off the main corridor — no Fish & Wildlife stocking records, no DEC lean-to within shouting distance, no obvious trailhead signage pulling day-hikers off the road. The name tells the story: shallow, mucky bottom, likely ringed by alder and cattail, the kind of water that hosts frogs and red-winged blackbirds more reliably than anglers. Ponds like this are common in the Adirondacks — ecologically productive, scenically unremarkable, and easy to overlook unless you're hunting for solitude or studying wetland ecology. Check with the town clerk or local paddlers if you're curious about access; this one doesn't advertise itself.
Holcomb Pond is a 27-acre water tucked into the Lake Placid region — small enough to stay off most regional itineraries, large enough to hold a quiet morning paddle if you can find the access. No fish species data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed recently or it's shallow enough to winterkill in hard years. The pond sits in transition forest between the High Peaks corridor and the working landscape to the north — more likely to see a great blue heron than a climbing party. Worth a look if you're mapping overlooked water in the region, but confirm access before you load the canoe.
Kildare Pond is a 27-acre water tucked in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to slip past most paddlers, quiet enough to hold its own stillness even in midsummer. No fish stocking records on file, which could mean native brookies that never got documented or simply that it's been overlooked by DEC surveys — either way, it's off the angling radar. The pond sits in working forest country where access typically means gated logging roads or private land negotiation, not marked trailheads. If you can reach it, you'll likely have it to yourself.
Iron Pond is a 27-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel removed once you're on it. No fish stocking records and no documented lean-tos or formal trails in the immediate drainage, which means it's likely either private-access or a bushwhack destination off a logging road. The name suggests old iron-ore activity, common in this part of the park where 19th-century mining operations left behind ponds, pits, and the occasional tailings pile reclaimed by alder and spruce. If you're chasing it, confirm access and ownership before you go — the Tupper Lake Wild Forest has plenty of unmarked ponds that require either permission or a good topo map and patience.
Frank Pond is a 27-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — part of the dense constellation of small ponds and wetlands that defines the western High Peaks transition zone. No formal fish survey data on record, which often means native brook trout or none at all; access is likely via unmaintained woods roads or bushwhack from the Raquette Lake area trail network. The pond sits in working forest land where property lines and public access shift over time — worth confirming access status with the DEC or local outfitters before committing to a trip. Small, quiet, and off the grid in the way that defines half the named waters in this part of the Park.
Little Pond sits on 27 acres in the Keene area — a small, quiet water without the trailhead traffic or the named-peak proximity that defines most ponds in this corridor. No fish species data on record, which typically means limited stocking history and minimal angling pressure. The pond is one of those pass-through waters that shows up on a topo map but rarely makes it into a trip report — worth a visit if you're already in the neighborhood and curious, but not a destination in its own right. Check local access and parking conditions before heading out.
Frank Pond is a 26-acre water in the Indian Lake town limits — one of the smaller named ponds in the central Adirondacks that hasn't made it onto the stocked-water lists or the lean-to circuit. No fish species data on record, which usually means it's either too shallow to winter-over trout or it's simply off the DEC stocking rotation. The name suggests an old landowner or logger-camp association, common in this part of Hamilton County where most ponds carried a surname before they carried a reputation. Worth a look if you're already in the Indian Lake area and mapping out bushwhacks or solo paddles — just don't expect trail signs or a put-in with a name.
Moody Pond is a 26-acre water tucked into the woods near Saranac Lake — small enough to stay off most touring circuits, large enough to hold its own shoreline character. No fish stocking records on file, which often means either native brookies that nobody's bothered to survey or a pond that winters too hard for consistent holdover. Access details are sparse in the DEC database, suggesting either private land complications or a bushwhack approach; worth checking the local ranger station or the Adirondack Chapter of the Nature Conservancy for current status. The name suggests either a temperamental water level or a 19th-century landowner with a disposition to match.
Grass Pond is a 26-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold a canoe for an hour or two. No fish species on record, which likely means it's been overlooked rather than surveyed, and no formal trail or launch documented in DEC records. These off-the-grid ponds tend to serve as local spots — known by camp owners and year-round residents, reached by logging roads or bushwhack, valued more for the quiet than the fishing. If you're asking about access, start with the town clerk or a local outfitter.
North Pond is a 26-acre water in the Schroon Lake region — part of the lower-elevation Adirondack terrain where the woods thin out and the roads web through private holdings and state forest in equal measure. No fish records on file, which usually means it's either unstocked, too shallow for trout survival, or accessible only through private land that never made it onto DEC survey routes. The name appears on USGS quads but not in most paddling guides — a common pattern for ponds that sit just outside the recreational corridor, claimed by locals or camp owners but unvisited by the through-hiking or canoe-camping crowd. If you're looking for solitude and aren't counting on launching a boat, this is the kind of water that delivers exactly that.
The Vly sits in the Indian Lake township — a 26-acre pond with a name that nods to the old Dutch word for wetland or marsh, a term that shows up on maps across the original Hudson River drainage. No fish stocking records on file, and the lack of documented access or nearby trail infrastructure suggests this is either private, landlocked by surrounding parcels, or buffered by enough rough ground to keep it off the casual paddler's list. In a region dense with larger waters and state-managed access points, The Vly reads as a cartographic placeholder — present on the map, absent from the guidebooks. If you're determined to reach it, start with the Indian Lake town office or a local real estate broker who knows the parcel lines.
