Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Deer Pond is a 26-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to skip the wider lake traffic, large enough to warrant the paddle if you're already in the area. No fish species data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed recently or it's holding native brook trout that nobody's bothered to log. Access details are sparse; most ponds this size in the Tupper corridor are either roadside pull-offs or short unmaintained paths that locals know and visitors stumble into. If you're scouting it, start with the DEC Unit Management Plan for the region or ask at a Tupper outfitter — someone will know the put-in.
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.
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.
Graves Pond is a 26-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to hold mystery, large enough to paddle without feeling boxed in. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means legacy brook trout if anything, though access and current conditions are harder to confirm without recent reports. The name suggests old settlement or logging-era ties, common in this stretch of the park where 19th-century operations left behind cellar holes, grown-over roads, and the occasional pond named for a foreman or landowner. Worth a reconnaissance trip if you're already in the area with a canoe and a taste for quieter, less-documented water.
Rock Pond is a 26-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — one of dozens of mid-size ponds scattered across the working forest and conservation easement lands west of the High Peaks. No fish species on record, which typically means limited survey work rather than fishless water, though small remote ponds in this zone often hold brook trout or go barren depending on winter oxygen levels and beaver activity. The name suggests ledge or outcrop shoreline, common in ponds tucked into the granite and gneiss terrain between Tupper and the Five Ponds Wilderness. Access details and current trail status are best confirmed with local outfitters or the DEC Ray Brook office before planning a trip.
Pepperbox Pond is a 26-acre water tucked into the Old Forge backcountry — remote enough that most day-trippers miss it, accessible enough that it stays on the radar for paddlers working the region's pond-hopping routes. The name suggests colonial-era survey markers or an old hunting camp, but the pond itself is what matters: shallow, marshy shoreline in places, deeper pockets that hold fish even if the species record is incomplete. No established trails make this a destination hike, but canoe access from connected waters turns it into a waypoint rather than a terminus. Bring a topo map — this is old-school navigation country where the pleasure is in the route-finding, not the amenities.
Moose Pond is a 26-acre water just outside Lake Placid village — close enough to the Olympic complex that you can hear the bobsled run on a quiet winter morning, but far enough off the main corridors that it holds its privacy. The pond sits in mixed hardwood and hemlock, shallow enough to warm by mid-June and ringed by private parcels that keep public access minimal. No fish data on file, which usually means it's either stocked irregularly or not at all — worth a call to the Ray Brook DEC office if you're planning to wet a line. A local spot, mostly — the kind of water that shows up in conversation but not on trail maps.
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.
Island Pond is a 26-acre water in the Brant Lake region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold a shoreline worth exploring. No fish species data on file, which usually means either limited stocking history or a pond that hasn't drawn survey attention from DEC in recent years. The name suggests at least one wooded hump breaking the surface, a common feature in glacially-scoured Adirondack basins where bedrock humps became islands as kettles filled. Access details aren't well-documented in the standard trail resources, so this one likely sits on private land or requires local knowledge to reach.
Clear Pond is a 26-acre water in the Indian Lake town limits — one of dozens of small ponds scattered through the central Adirondacks that don't announce themselves from the highway and don't appear on the short lists. No fish survey data on record, which usually means limited access or low angling pressure, or both. The name suggests the obvious (tannic waters are the norm here, so a clear pond registers), but without a known trailhead or boat launch in the immediate file, this is either private-access or bushwhack territory. Worth a look on the DEC Unit Management Plan maps if you're hunting quiet water in the Indian Lake area.
Round Pond sits in the Paradox Lake Wild Forest — 26 acres tucked into the eastern Adirondacks, where the terrain rolls lower and the crowds thin out. The pond lacks the fishing pressure and infrastructure of the bigger waters in the region, which means it's either overlooked or exactly what you're looking for, depending on your tolerance for unmarked access and vague DEC signage. No species data on file, but that's often code for "brookies if you're lucky, pickerel if you're persistent." Worth a look if you're already in the area and prefer your ponds quiet.
Benz Pond is a 26-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most touring circuits, large enough to hold a canoe morning without feeling landlocked. No fish data on record, which typically signals either an unstocked pond or one that's gone fallow between DEC surveys; worth a cast if you're passing through, but don't plan the trip around it. Access details are sparse in the standard references — likely a bushwhack or unmarked woods road approach, which keeps the shoreline quiet and the put-in to yourself. If you're already in the area with a light boat and a taste for exploration, Benz is the kind of pond that rewards the effort with solitude more than scenery.
Big Marsh Pond sits in the Paradox Lake region — 26 acres of open water that reads more wetland than swimming hole, the kind of shallow pond that warms early and holds pickleweed along the margins. The name tells the story: marshy shoreline, likely beaver activity, and the sort of untracked quiet that comes with water nobody's racing to reach. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked and acidic or simply unsampled — common for smaller ponds outside the stocking rotation. Worth a look if you're poking around the Paradox drainage and prefer bog edges to granite slabs.
John Pond is a 25-acre water in the Indian Lake township — part of the lower-elevation lake country west of the High Peaks, where the forest opens up and the ponds sit quieter. No fish species on record, which usually means it's either unmaintained for stocking or it's holding wild brookies that nobody's bothered to log. The pond sits outside the heavily trafficked corridors, so access is likely via old logging roads or unmapped timber company trails — the kind of water that rewards local knowledge more than a DEC kiosk. If you're in Indian Lake and asking around, start at the town offices or the bait shop.
Black Pond sits in the Tupper Lake wild — 25 acres of undeveloped water with no recorded fish surveys and no trail infrastructure to speak of. This is the category of Adirondack pond that only shows up on a DeLorme map or a USGS quad: if you're here, you came in on purpose, probably bushwhacking from a logging road or following old hunter routes that aren't maintained for public traffic. The lack of data is the data — Black Pond is one of the Park's unmanaged, unmonitored waters where the only amenity is solitude. Expect wetland shoreline, blowdown, and the possibility you'll have it to yourself.
East Charley Pond is a 25-acre water in the Long Lake town corridor — one of dozens of small ponds scattered across the western lake-and-forest country between the High Peaks and the lakes region proper. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no lean-to — which in this part of the Park usually means bushwhack access or private shoreline. The name suggests an original surveyor or early settler; the "East" implies a West Charley somewhere nearby, though that water doesn't appear on the state's named inventory. If you're poking around Long Lake's back ponds, confirm access and ownership before you launch.
Chapel Pond pulls double duty: it's the most photographed swimming hole on NY-73 (pull-off parking on the south end, granite ledges, cold deep water by Memorial Day) and it's the base of the Chapel Pond Slab — one of the most popular rock climbing crags in the Adirondacks. The pond sits in a narrow pass between Giant Mountain to the north and the slab cliffs to the south, framed by the kind of view that turns a drive between Keene Valley and the Northway into a destination. No camping at the pond itself (roadside DEC corridor, no permits), but Round Pond is one mile south for a lean-to base, and the Giant / Rocky Peak Ridge / Noonmark trailheads are all within five minutes. Swimming, fishing for brook trout, and watching climbers work the slab from the road — that's the visit. Strong cell signal here too if you're routing a day.
Clear Pond is a 25-acre water in the Indian Lake township — one of dozens of small ponds scattered across the southern Adirondacks that carry generic names (Clear, Round, Mud) and minimal fisheries data on file with DEC. Without stocked trout or formal access, ponds like this tend to stay quiet: local cabin traffic, the occasional canoe launch from a nearby camp road, maybe a beaver lodge at the inlet. If you're looking for it on a map, cross-reference the USGS quad and confirm road access before committing to the drive — "Clear Pond" appears six times across the Park, and not all of them are reachable by public right-of-way.
Bullhead Pond is a 25-acre kettle pond in the Indian Lake town corridor — tucked into the transition zone where the central Adirondacks flatten out toward the southern lakes. No formal trail data or fish stocking records in the DEC system, which usually means either private-adjacent access or a local knowledge walk-in that hasn't made it onto the state maps. The name suggests either the catfish family or the more common Adirondack pattern of naming ponds after their shoreline profile when viewed from a specific ridgeline. Worth a call to the Indian Lake town office or the local DEC ranger if you're trying to pin down access — sometimes these smaller waters have informal easements or legacy routes that predate the trail inventory.
Lower Beech Ridge Pond is a 25-acre water in the Old Forge township — one of the smaller named ponds in a region dense with lakes, and one without publicly documented fish survey data or established trail references in the standard DEC literature. The name suggests it sits below higher terrain to the south or east, likely in second-growth hardwood transition forest typical of the southwestern Park, but access details and ownership status remain unclear in available records. For paddlers and anglers working the Old Forge area, this is a name on the map without a well-worn path to it — worth local inquiry at the town office or nearby outfitters before making assumptions about where to launch or whether it's open to public use.
Bassout Pond is a 25-acre water tucked into the Raquette Lake township — off the main lake circuits and far enough from the trailhead networks that it holds its quiet. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means either private inholdings complicate access or it's simply too small and shallow to warrant stocking surveys. The name suggests old logging-era geography — "bassout" as corruption or mispronunciation, common in ponds named by surveyors or timber crews who moved through faster than they mapped. If you know how to reach it, it's yours; if you don't, start with the Raquette Lake town office or a USGS quad.
Colvin Pond is a 25-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel like you've gone somewhere. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means it's either too shallow to hold trout through summer or it's simply off the DEC's radar for management. The pond sits in working forest country rather than the High Peaks corridor, so access likely depends on logging roads and whatever informal routes the locals know — worth a call to a Tupper Lake outfitter or the local DEC office before you load the canoe. These minor ponds often fish better than their paperwork suggests.
Copperas Pond — 25 acres off the Tupper Lake grid, not to be confused with the better-known Copperas Pond in the High Peaks — sits in the kind of forested middle ground that defines much of the northern Adirondacks: no dramatic peaks, no maintained trails on most maps, no lean-tos or designated campsites. The pond is typical of the region's working forest landscape — accessible by logging roads that shift with ownership and seasonal use, fished occasionally by locals who know the access points, and otherwise left to loons and the odd moose. No species data on file with DEC, which usually means either no stocking history or simply no survey work — common for small waters outside the recreation corridors. Worth checking current topo maps and local knowledge before heading in.
Vanderwhacker Pond sits in the central Adirondacks west of Minerva — a 25-acre water in the Vanderwhacker Wild Forest, part of the quieter backcountry between the High Peaks and the southern lakes. The pond takes its name from the Vanderwhacker Mountain fire tower to the east, one of the region's more remote tower hikes. Access typically requires a multi-mile paddle-and-portage or hike depending on approach, which keeps pressure low and the shoreline undeveloped. No fish data on record, but the pond holds brook trout and serves as a waypoint for through-hikers and paddlers working the interior wild forest routes.
