Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Wakely Pond covers 25 acres near the Cedar River Flow, with road access to the Wakely Mountain trailhead. Brook trout fishing and primitive shoreline campsites — a quiet base for the fire tower climb above.
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.
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.
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.
Keenan Pond is a 25-acre pocket water in the Keene town limits — one of those ponds that exists on the DEC list and the USGS quad but doesn't show up in the standard hiking guides or fishing reports. No public access trail that anyone talks about, no lean-to, no stocking records — which usually means it's either landlocked by private parcels or sitting in a drainage where the beaver work changes faster than the maps get updated. If you're poking around Keene Valley's lower-elevation drainages and stumble onto it, you've earned it. Worth checking the town tax maps before bushwhacking in.
Louie Pond is a 24-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — small enough to hold a quiet afternoon, large enough to paddle without circling back on yourself in ten minutes. No formal fish stocking records and no designated campsites, which means it sees far less pressure than the bigger named waters in the Raquette drainage. Access typically involves either a bushwhack or a private-land approach — confirm ownership and permissions before heading in. Worth checking with local outfitters or the DEC Ray Brook office for current access intel.
Fly Ponds — a 24-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — sits in the kind of mid-elevation terrain where the forest opens up just enough to let light hit the water but not enough to pull crowds. No fish data on record, which typically means either low pH, shallow depth, or simple absence from DEC stocking routes; worth a cast if you're already back there, but not a destination for anglers. The name suggests historical beaver activity or the presence of seasonal hatches that once made it notable to someone with a fly rod. Access and trail details are sparse — if you know the water, you likely came in from one of the Raquette Lake area trailheads or by bushwhack.
Fishhole Pond is a 24-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to stay off most radar but large enough to hold fish, though current DEC records don't list what's swimming under the surface. The name suggests local fishing history, the kind of pond that shows up on hand-drawn maps and in conversations at the hardware store but not in guidebooks. No known formal access or maintained trails tie it to the public trail system, which typically means either private land surrounds it or it's reached by informal routes known to locals. Worth asking at a Saranac Lake fly shop or the DEC office in Ray Brook if you're serious about finding it.
Moose Pond is a 24-acre pocket water in the Old Forge township — small enough to paddle in an hour, large enough to feel like you've left the main corridor. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means it's either stocked intermittently or not managed for angling at all; locals might know otherwise. The Old Forge area runs dense with named ponds and unmaintained connectors, so if access isn't obvious from a boat launch or a marked trailhead, assume it's a bushwhack or a local's route. Worth a knock on the door at an outfitter in town — they'll know if it's swimmable, fishable, or just a quiet paddle with a thermos.
Higley Flow is a 24-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel intimate, large enough to paddle without circling back every ten minutes. The name suggests dam or beaver work at some point, but the current state is what matters: it's off the main corridor, which means you're not sharing the water with a parade of day-trippers from Lake Placid. No fish data on record, so if you're going in with a rod, you're scouting. Best bet is to ask at a local shop in Tupper Lake before you drive out — someone will know if it's worth the gas.
Dog Pond is a 24-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it rarely shows up on the radar of anglers working the bigger lakes in the corridor, but that's part of the appeal for anyone looking to paddle a pond where you won't cross wakes with a guide boat. No species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked native brookies or a pond that winters out — worth a cast if you're already in the area, but not a destination fishery. Access details are scarce in the public record; if you're planning a trip, confirm put-in and ownership with the local ranger or outfitter before you load the canoe.
Fish Ponds sits in the Speculator region — a 24-acre body of water that carries the functional name common to working ponds across the North Country. No fish species data on record, which often means it's either under-surveyed or managed intermittently, and no major peaks or trailheads nearby to anchor its identity in the backcountry network. The lack of curated nearby listings suggests it's either tucked into private land or far enough off the recreational grid that it doesn't generate the foot traffic of named destinations. If you're chasing it down, confirm access and ownership before you go — many "Fish Ponds" in Hamilton County are remnants of old logging or farm operations, not public recreation sites.
Clear Pond is a 24-acre water in the Paradox Lake region — one of those middle-distance ponds that sits off the main recreation corridors and doesn't pull casual traffic. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout that no one's bothering to survey or a pond that doesn't hold fish through the winter. The Paradox Lake area itself is a mix of private shoreline and low-key state land access, so approach expectations accordingly — this is more likely a bushwhack or local-knowledge destination than a marked trailhead experience. If you're already in the area for Paradox Lake itself, Clear Pond makes sense as a secondary explore; otherwise, it's a research-first outing.
Lanes Pond is a 24-acre water in the Old Forge corridor — small enough to stay off most radar, large enough to hold a canoe afternoon. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means it's either private, inaccessible, or both; many ponds in this size class near Old Forge sit tucked behind camps or logging roads that once served as access but no longer connect to maintained trail systems. If you're poking around the Old Forge / Thendara backroads with a topo map and find public access, it's worth the reconnaissance — but confirm land status before you paddle.
East Pond is a 24-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — one of dozens of small ponds scattered through the working forest and private holdings west of the Blue Line's densest public land. No fish data on file, no marked trailhead in the DEC inventory, no lean-to — which usually means private inholding, gated logging road, or both. The name appears on the USGS quad but not in the DEC's stocked-waters list or the designated campsite registry. If you're hunting it down, confirm access and ownership before you bushwhack.
Little Fish Pond is a 24-acre pocket of water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it lives up to its name, tucked into working forestland with limited public information on access or fish population. The DEC hasn't documented stocking or survey data here, which usually means either limited angling pressure or a pond that doesn't hold trout through the summer. These kinds of waters often serve as local-knowledge spots: someone's canoe-in morning, a brook trout experiment, or just a quiet place to paddle when the bigger lakes get busy. Check the latest DEC access atlas for current trail or road access — ownership and conditions shift in this part of the park.
Deer Pond sits off the Old Forge grid — a 24-acre pond in the middle of the Moose River Plains that doesn't appear on many paddler itineraries but holds its place in the network of quiet waters west of the main tourist corridor. No formal fisheries data on file, which often means intermittent brookies or seasonal warmwater catch depending on connectivity and winter kill cycles. Access depends on whether you're coming by foot or boat from adjacent ponds — this is working wilderness, not trailhead country, and the appeal is in the silence more than the amenities. Bring a map; cell service is theoretical at best.
Russett Pond is a 24-acre water in the Keene town limits — small enough to stay off most touring itineraries, large enough to hold its shape on a USGS quad. No fish data on file with DEC, which typically means either naturally fishless or stocked once decades ago and left alone since. The pond sits in mixed hardwood-conifer forest at mid-elevation, the kind of water that serves as a landmark on longer through-hikes more often than a destination itself. Worth checking local trail registers or the DEC Region 5 office in Ray Brook for current access routes if you're working a loop in the area.
Archer Vly sits in the Great Sacandaga Lake region — a 24-acre pond in country that leans more toward second-home development and lakefront settlements than trailhead-to-lean-to hiking. The name *vly* (Dutch for valley or wetland) marks it as one of the low-lying waters common to the southern Adirondacks, where the topography flattens out and the glacial basins hold quieter, warmer ponds than their High Peaks counterparts. No fish species on record and no nearby trail inventory — this is off-the-grid water, likely private-access or tucked into a patchwork of posted land. Worth a look on the DeLorme if you're chasing the obscure edges of the Park boundary.
Cracker Pond is a 24-acre pocket water in the Raquette Lake township — remote enough that fishing and access records are thin, which usually means either private holdings nearby or a bushwhack-only approach through working forest. The name suggests old logger camps or a trapper's cabin, the kind of backcountry nomenclature that predates the Blue Line by decades. No formal trail appears on current DEC maps, and no stocking or survey data on file. If you're sorting through a USGS quad looking for untracked water in the Raquette drainage, Cracker Pond is the kind of dot that rewards a satellite pass and a conversation with a local before you commit the afternoon.
Oven Mountain Pond is a 24-acre water tucked into the southeastern corner of the Park near Brant Lake — off the main tourist corridors, no formal trailhead signage, and likely accessed via old logging roads or private land adjoining state forest. The name suggests proximity to Oven Mountain, a wooded summit south of Pharaoh Lake Wilderness, though the pond itself sits outside the designated wilderness boundary. No fish stocking records and no DEC lean-tos — this is deep-woods paddling or bushwhacking terrain, the kind of water that stays quiet because it requires either local knowledge or a willingness to read a topo map and pick a route. If you're targeting it, confirm access and boundaries before you park.
Horton Ponds — plural on the map, one continuous shallow basin in practice — sits in working forestland southwest of Tupper Lake, accessible via a network of private logging roads that shift status season to season. The 24-acre spread is too remote for casual day-use and too undefined for targeted fishing pressure, which keeps it in that middle category of Adirondack waters: known to locals with land access or snowmobile routes, invisible to the trailhead crowd. No stocking records, no DEC campsites, no designated trail — this is a pond you find because you're already out there, not one you drive to find.
Rush Pond is a 24-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough to hold some intimacy in a corridor that skews toward crowded shoreline and resort traffic. No fisheries data on file, which usually means either stocked-out years ago or never managed for angling in the first place. The pond sits outside the more trafficked lake zones, a quiet pocket that doesn't pull the summer rental crowd. Access details aren't widely documented — if you're headed there, confirm the approach with a local outfitter or the closest DEC ranger station before you commit the drive.
Pear Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to miss on a topo map, quiet enough that it likely stays that way in practice. No fish survey data on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means limited access, limited pressure, or both. The name suggests an old surveyor's notation or a vague shoreline shape — either way, it's the kind of pond that rewards the hiker willing to bushwhack or follow an unmarked route. If you're launching a canoe here, you carried it in yourself.
Huckleberry Pond is a 23-acre water in the Old Forge area — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to paddle without circling every ten minutes. No fish species on record, which usually means either it winters out or the DEC hasn't surveyed it in recent memory; either way, it's not a fishing destination. The name suggests old blueberry barrens or logged-over second growth — common in the southwestern Adirondacks where the forest bounced back from the turn-of-the-century timber era. Access details vary by season; check the latest DEC Wild Forest map or stop at the Old Forge visitor center for current trailhead conditions.
Lilypad Ponds sits in the Raquette Lake wild forest — 23 acres split across multiple small basins, connected by shallow channels and doing exactly what the name suggests by mid-July. Access is rough: no maintained trail, no DEC signage, and the approach involves either a long paddle from Raquette Lake proper or a bushwhack from the nearest logging road. No fish data on record, which usually means limited access has kept it off the stocking rotation — though brookies sometimes work their way into these backwater systems on their own. This is a pond for the paddler who likes a map, a compass, and no company.
Toad Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Raquette Lake township — not a destination pond, but the kind of small stillwater that turns up on the edges of longer paddling routes or while scouting off-trail in the central Adirondacks. No fish species on record, which usually means either unstocked and acidic or simply under-sampled by DEC surveys. The pond sits in timber company or private land patchwork typical of the Raquette Lake region, so confirm access before bushwhacking in. For named, accessible ponds in this area, Shallow Lake and South Inlet offer clearer public entry points and better fishing.
Scott Pond is a 23-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of dozens of small, unnamed-access waters scattered through the working forests and private lands northwest of the village. No fish data on file, no marked trails in the state inventory, no DEC campsites — which means it's either locked behind a gate, accessible only by logging road, or sitting in a parcel that changed hands before anyone thought to map it. If you know where it is, you probably grew up here. If you don't, it's not the kind of place you stumble onto by accident.
Fish Ponds sits in the Speculator region as one of those modest-acreage waters that never quite made it onto the standard fishing or paddling circuits — twenty-three acres, no stocking records on file, and no formal trail infrastructure to speak of. The name suggests old beaver work or a historical put-and-take operation, but without current species data it's a question mark for anglers and more of a local landmark than a destination. Access likely requires either a bushwhack or permission across private land — worth confirming with the town or DEC Ray Brook before committing to the drive. If you're already in Speculator with a canoe, it's a curious dot on the map; just don't count on brookies until you've done the legwork.
Three Ponds sits in the northwest corner of the Lake George Wild Forest — a 23-acre water that reads more remote than its access would suggest, tucked into second-growth hardwoods with no maintained trail system and no formal boat launch. The name implies three distinct basins, though water levels and beaver activity over the years have blurred the lines; what you find depends on the season and the decade. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means natural brookies or nothing at all — local anglers will know which. This is a bushwhack destination or a local secret, not a trailhead feature — plan accordingly.
Ormsbee Pond is a 23-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to feel quiet, large enough to hold a canoe day without circling endlessly. No fish data on record, which in the Adirondacks typically means either under-surveyed or too shallow to sustain trout through winter — worth a cast if you're already there, but not worth the drive for the fishing alone. The pond sits in working forest country where access patterns shift with timber company easements and private holdings; confirm public access and parking before you go. If you're launching, bring a hand-carry boat and patience for the put-in.
Ash Craft Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Keene Valley backcountry — small enough to stay off most hiking itineraries, large enough to hold its own quiet. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means wild brookies or nothing at all; local anglers know which. The pond sits in that middle distance where casual day-trippers thin out and the overnight crowd hasn't quite arrived — the kind of water that rewards anyone willing to work past the roadside destinations. Worth confirming access and current trail conditions with the DEC Ray Brook office before committing to the approach.
Dippikill Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the southeastern corner of the Adirondack Park, part of the Lake George Wild Forest complex where the park boundary begins to blur into private holdings and state forest. The name — likely derived from a Dutch or early settler term for a deep or hidden stream — hints at the pond's relative obscurity compared to the higher-profile lakes closer to Lake George village. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either light stocking history or limited angler pressure worth recording. Access details are scarce in the public record; if you're planning a visit, confirm land status and trailhead location with the local ranger or land trust before heading in.
Chain Ponds sits in the Raquette Lake Wild Forest — 23 acres split across multiple basins in dense second-growth forest south of the main lake. Access is bushwhack or by paddling up one of the inlet streams during high water, which makes this more of a local secret than a trailhead destination. No fish stocking records and no maintained campsites, so it's mostly left to hunters glassing for deer sign in October and the occasional canoeist looking for absolute solitude. Bring a compass and a good topo — the ponds don't announce themselves from the water.
Barney Pond is a 23-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most recreation radars, large enough to hold its own shoreline character. No fish species on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means either marginal habitat (shallow, warm, low oxygen in winter) or simply that DEC hasn't surveyed it in the modern database era. Access details are sparse in the public record; if there's no obvious roadside pull-off or marked trailhead, it's likely tucked into private or working forest land. Worth a call to the local DEC office in Ray Brook if you're serious about reaching it.
Little Charley Pond is a 23-acre pocket of water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it doesn't pull traffic from the main corridor, quiet enough that it holds its character through summer. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing, and no formal trails indexed to the pond itself, so access is either by local knowledge or bushwhack. Waters like this one tend to show up in older surveyor maps and hunting camp logs more than they do in current guidebooks. Worth asking at a Long Lake tackle shop if you're curious — someone will know the approach.
Sand Pond is a 23-acre water in the Old Forge corridor — small enough to stay off most paddling radars, quiet enough to fish or float without company on a weekday morning. The pond sits in the working landscape south of the Fulton Chain, part of the patchwork of private holdings, state land, and legacy parcels that define the southwestern Adirondacks. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or a fishless basin — worth a cast if you're already in the area, but not a destination fishery. Access and shore conditions vary by season and ownership; check current DEC mapping before you load the canoe.
Antediluvian Pond — 23 acres in the Long Lake township — carries one of the more memorable names in the Adirondack water inventory, though the access and fishing details remain thin in the record. The pond sits off the main corridor, outside the typical loop of paddling routes and trailhead networks that define the central Long Lake region. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked and unsampled or too remote to justify the survey work. Worth a map check if you're plotting something deep in the Long Lake wild forest blocks — sometimes the best ponds are the ones without the backstory.
Heath Pond is a 23-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to slip past casual attention, large enough to hold quiet if you find access. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout that never made the DEC reports or a pond that doesn't hold fish through winter drawdown. The name suggests bog margins and shallow water — classic Adirondack lowland habitat, more likely to reward a canoe than a hiking boot. If you're working this area, cross-reference with local paddling routes or ask at the Tupper Lake outfitters for current access and conditions.
Shaw Pond is a 23-acre water tucked into the Long Lake township — small enough to stay off most paddlers' radars, remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means wild brookies or nothing at all; the DEC hasn't surveyed it in recent memory. These mid-sized ponds in the central Adirondacks tend to be reached by old logging roads or unmarked paths that require local knowledge or a willingness to bushwhack. If you're based in Long Lake and looking for solitude, Shaw Pond is worth a conversation at the town dock or the hardware store.
Soda Pond is a 23-acre pond in the Old Forge area — small enough to stay off the radar, big enough to paddle without circling twice in ten minutes. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked and unmemorable or private and unmonitored; access details are murky, and there's no clear trailhead or public launch in the usual DEC directories. The name suggests old logging-era color or mineral content in the water — Soda Springs, Soda Creek, Soda Range names scatter across the western Adirondacks from the tannery and lumber boom years. Worth a call to the Old Forge visitor center if you're curious; this one doesn't advertise itself.
Buck Pond is a 23-acre water in the Old Forge area — small enough to paddle in an hour, big enough to feel like a destination rather than a puddle. No fish species data on record, which usually means either unstocked, surveyed decades ago, or too shallow to winter over anything worth catching. The pond sits in the working part of the central Adirondacks where state land, private inholdings, and seasonal camps share the same tax map — access details matter here, so confirm put-in rights before launching. Worth a look if you're already in the area with a canoe on the roof and an afternoon to burn.
