Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Bacon Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough to stay off most touring itineraries, which makes it a reliable refuge when the big named lakes get crowded. No fish stocking data on record, and the size suggests marginal trout habitat at best, but that's never been the draw here. This is a pond for people who want to sit on a shoreline alone with a dog and a book, or paddle a kayak in dead-still water without crossing wakes. Access details vary by season — check with the local DEC office or regional paddling groups for current put-in status and ownership boundaries.
Bear Pond is a 45-acre water in the Lake George region — a name that appears on maps without much of a digital footprint, which typically means either private land or limited public access worth confirming before you drive. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor and the heavily trafficked Lake George Wild Forest trail networks, so it's not a standard day-hike destination. No fish species on record, which could mean unstocked, untested, or simply under the survey radar. If you're chasing this one down, call the local DEC office in Warrensburg or check the most recent Adirondack Atlas for access status — some ponds in this region are approachable only by permission or old logging roads that aren't maintained.
Bear Pond is a 16-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to hold quiet, large enough to paddle without feeling claustrophobic. No fish species on record, which usually means either unmapped brookies or none at all; the DEC hasn't stocked it in recent memory. The pond sits outside the heavy-traffic Lake George corridor, so it skews more local than tourist — the kind of place that gets fished by someone who grew up knowing the access. Worth checking the DEC's latest public water access list if you're planning a visit; some Lake George-area ponds are landlocked or require permission.
Beaver Pond is a five-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to slip past most paddlers and anglers, but the kind of quiet pocket that rewards anyone willing to look beyond the big water and the busy corridors. No fish species data on file, which either means undersampled or marginal habitat; beaver activity (historic or active) tends to draw the name and shape the shoreline. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these smaller ponds, most of them accessed by bushwhack or unmarked paths rather than maintained trails. If you're hunting this one down, bring a compass and a topo — and don't expect a lean-to.
Beaver Pond — ten acres tucked somewhere in the broader Lake George region — is one of those small waters that shows up on the DEC list but doesn't carry much of a paper trail. No fish stocking records, no marked trailhead in the standard guidebooks, no lean-to or campsite designation that made it into the planning maps. It's likely a wetland feeder or a roadside pullover pond that earned a name locally but never developed the infrastructure or the fishing pressure to generate data. If you're looking for specifics on access or conditions, check the latest DEC quad map or ask at the nearest ranger station — this one's off the documented grid.
Berry Pond is a 17-acre pocket of water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it rarely shows up in conversation but large enough to hold a kayak for an afternoon. No fish stocking records and no developed access means this is a bushwhack or private-access situation, the kind of water that sits quietly between bigger destinations and gets visited mostly by people who already know it's there. If you're poking around the back roads east or west of the lake itself, Berry Pond is the sort of name you see on the DeLorme and file away for later — not a headline, but not nothing either.
Black Pond is a 3-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it rarely appears on trail maps, but named and on the record. No fish stocking data, no designated campsites, no trailhead signage pointing you there. Ponds this size in the Lake George Wild Forest tend to be walk-in affairs: old logging roads, unmarked paths, or bushwhacks from better-known corridors. If you're heading in, bring a topo and don't expect company.
Bloody Pond is a 2-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that most topographic maps mark it but most hikers don't think twice about it. The name carries a grim historical echo common to several Adirondack waters: colonial-era battle sites where soldiers were buried or wounded washed in the shallows, though specifics here have blurred with time. No fish species on record, no formal trail access noted in DEC databases — it reads more like a named wetland than a destination pond. If you're sorting Lake George backcountry options, this one lives in the footnotes.
Bullhead Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it doesn't register on most paddlers' radar, but that's precisely the appeal. No boat launch, no established DEC trail markers, no fish stocking records to chase: this is the kind of place you find by studying the topo and bushwhacking in with a light canoe or packraft. The water sits in second-growth forest a few miles from the more trafficked Bolton Landing corridor, quiet enough that you'll hear every woodpecker and beaver tail-slap. Bring your own access plan and expect to have the shoreline to yourself.
Bullhead Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, but named and mapped, which means it's on someone's list. No fish data on record, and with that surface area it's likely more frog chorus than angling destination. The name suggests either a stocked past (bullhead ponds were common mill-town put-and-takes in the 19th century) or simple description — bullhead catfish can survive in shallow, weedy basins where trout won't. Access and trail status would need verification with the local DEC ranger or the Wild Forest unit management plan.
Bumps Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't pull much attention from the bigger named lakes nearby, but the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map and makes you wonder who fished it last. No species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unstocked and unfished or too shallow to hold trout through the summer. The name suggests old surveyor's slang or a long-gone local landmark — *bumps* as terrain feature, not personality. Worth a look if you're working through the lesser-known waters in the southern park, but set expectations accordingly.
Butler Pond sits in the Lake George Wild Forest — 102 acres of quiet water in a region better known for shoreline estates and motorboat traffic. The pond holds no fish stocking records and sees minimal angling pressure; most visitors are hikers threading through on snowmobile trails that double as foot access in summer, or hunters working the surrounding hardwood ridges in October. No designated campsites, no boat launch, no crowds — which is exactly the point if you're looking for a placeholder swim or a lunch stop between trailheads. Check the DEC Wild Forest map for the nearest seasonal access; conditions and trail status shift year to year.
Carp Pond is a small 13-acre water tucked into the Lake George Wild Forest — one of those ponds that shows up on the topo but rarely makes it into conversation. No fish data on file, no marked recreation sites, and the shoreline access situation is unclear enough that most paddlers stick to the better-documented waters in the region. The name suggests either an old stocking effort or a settler's optimism about what might survive in a shallow Adirondack pond. If you're heading this way, confirm access and ownership lines before you bushwhack — the Lake George Wild Forest has plenty of easier entry points for backcountry water.
Carter Pond is a 22-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to stay off most touring maps, large enough to hold its own shoreline character. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either wild brookies that never made the surveys or a pond that winterkills and runs fishless year to year. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these middle-acreage ponds tucked between the better-known trail corridors — some with old footpaths, some bushwhack-only, most lightly visited outside hunting season. Check the DEC Wild Forest map for the nearest trailhead; Carter Pond likely requires local knowledge or a willingness to navigate by topo.
The Champlain Canal — the 60-mile working waterway that links the Hudson River to Lake Champlain — has an 11-acre impoundment cataloged within Lake George Region boundaries, likely a widened lock pool or feeder reservoir rather than a natural pond. This is canal infrastructure, not backcountry water: concrete locks, maintenance roads, occasional barge traffic moving between the capital district and the Champlain Valley. No fish data on record, which tracks for a managed channel with fluctuating water levels and boat traffic. If you're looking for paddling or fishing in the Lake George region, you're after the named ponds in the southern Adirondacks — this is a place barges go, not canoes.
The Champlain Canal — not to be confused with the larger Lake Champlain navigation system — is a 14-acre landlocked water in the Lake George region, likely a remnant oxbow or old canal infrastructure that gave up its working life decades ago. No fish data on record, no established trails, no nearby peaks to anchor it in the hiking universe — this is backcountry water that exists on the DEC roster but not in the recreational conversation. It's the kind of place you'd stumble onto while bushwhacking between better-known destinations, or while tracing old topo lines on a winter map session. If you're looking for solitude and don't need a trailhead sign to validate the trip, start here.
The Champlain Canal — not to be confused with Lake Champlain itself — is a 17-acre impoundment in the Lake George region, likely a widened or pooled section of the historic canal system that once connected the Hudson River to Lake Champlain. The canal operated as a commercial shipping route through the 19th and early 20th centuries, and remnants of locks, towpaths, and stone infrastructure still mark sections of the corridor. No fish species data on record, and the setting skews more industrial-historical than backcountry — this is canal water, not a forest pond. If you're tracing the old waterway or looking for a quiet paddle through a less-trafficked corner of the southern Adirondacks, it's worth a look for the engineering and the context.
The Champlain Canal — not to be confused with Lake Champlain proper — is a narrow, 10-acre impoundment tied to the historic canal system that once linked the Hudson River to Lake Champlain via a series of locks and channels. The canal infrastructure is long decommissioned in this area, leaving behind a quiet backwater that sits off the main recreation corridors of the Lake George region. No fish stocking data on record, no maintained access, no established trails — this is remnant infrastructure, not a destination pond. If you're mapping canal history or wetland corridors in the southern Adirondacks, it's a footnote; otherwise, there are a hundred better reasons to be in the Lake George Wild Forest.
Champlain Canal is a 6-acre pond in the Lake George region — the name suggests canal-era origins, though the water itself sits outside the main navigation corridor that historically connected the Hudson River to Lake Champlain. No fish species on record and no nearby peaks or curated access points, which places this in the category of small named waters that exist more as geographic features than as recreation destinations. If you're tracking down every named water in the Adirondack Park for completeness, this one checks the box — but expect minimal infrastructure and limited reason to visit unless you're working land or mapping the region.
Clark Pond is a 14-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, but large enough to hold a canoe for an hour or two of quiet paddling. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means brook trout *or* nothing, depending on whether the pond connects to moving water and whether it holds oxygen through the winter. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these small ponds, most of them accessed by unmarked woods roads or old logging tracks that require a topo map and a willingness to bushwhack the last quarter-mile. Worth checking DEC's Wild Forest inventory for the nearest trailhead if you're serious about finding it.
Clear Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't draw crowds, large enough to feel like a destination if you're looking for stillwater away from the main lake corridor. No fish data on file, which often means either wild brookies that slip through DEC surveys or simply a pond that doesn't hold fish year-round; locals who know it will know which. The Lake George Wild Forest has dozens of these small ponds tucked into the hills — some accessed by old logging roads, some by bushwhack — and Clear Pond fits that pattern: a place you find because someone told you about it or because you're willing to poke around with a map.
Coon Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreation maps and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brook trout in low numbers or a pond that winters out every few decades. Without maintained trail access or nearby trailhead infrastructure, this is the kind of water that gets visited by local landowners, adjacent campers, or the occasional bushwhacker working through a topo map. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip.
Crandall Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it rarely shows up on general recreational maps and likely functions more as a local feature than a fishing or paddling destination. No fish species data on record, which usually means either the pond hasn't been surveyed in decades or it doesn't hold a reliable trout population worth stocking. Without curated access points or nearby trail infrastructure, this is the kind of water you'd encounter while bushwhacking property lines or scanning old USGS quads — present on paper, quiet in practice.
Crossett Pond is a 125-acre water in the southern Adirondacks near the Lake George region — large enough to paddle but small enough to stay off the radar of most through-traffic heading to the big lakes. No fish species data on record, which usually means it's either been forgotten by the DEC surveys or it's too shallow and weedy to hold much of interest to anglers. The pond sits in working forest land, so access and surrounding conditions depend on current timber company policy and seasonal road status. If you're mapping ponds in this corner of the park, Crossett is a name you'll see on the quad — but expect to do some homework before you launch.
Daggett Pond sits in the southern Adirondacks near the Lake George Wild Forest — a 63-acre water that holds its place in the mid-sized pond category without the pressure of the bigger named lakes to the north. The pond doesn't show up on the standard fish stocking lists, which usually means native brookies or unverified holdover populations from decades past. Access details are sparse in the state records, which often signals either private-road complications or a put-in that locals know and the DEC hasn't formalized. If you're scouting it, start with the nearest Wild Forest trailhead and a good topo map.
Delegan Pond is a six-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that it lives in the gaps between the better-known trails and paddling routes, and quiet enough that it probably stays that way. No fish data on file, no obvious trailhead buzz, no lean-to registry to track who's been through. These are the ponds that show up on the DEC inventory but not on the weekend itinerary — worth knowing about if you're the type who likes to fill in the map, or if you're looking for a place where the only thing you're likely to encounter is the occasional surveyor's tape and a lot of uninterrupted stillness.
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.
Dolph Pond is a 38-acre water tucked into the Lake George wild forest — part of the scattered pond country east of the lake itself, where second-growth hardwoods and old logging roads form a quiet buffer between the tourist corridor and the deeper backcountry. The pond doesn't appear on many fishing reports, and without stocking records or angler pressure it's likely holding small native brookies or panfish, if anything. Access typically involves navigating unmarked or minimally-marked trails from nearby forest roads — the kind of place you find by studying the topo or following local knowledge rather than a trailhead kiosk. Expect solitude and modest scenery; this is utility water, not a destination.
Gay Pond is a five-acre pocket of stillwater tucked into the southern Adirondacks near the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it won't appear on most road maps, and quiet enough that it stays that way. No fish stocking records on file, no maintained trails advertised by DEC, no campsite infrastructure — this is the category of water that gets visited by hunters in November, locals who know the woods, and the occasional bushwhacker working through the USGS quad. If you're looking for a reason to visit, you'll need to supply your own: brook trout exploratory, a winter snowshoe objective, or simply the satisfaction of standing at a place most people will never see. Verify access and landowner permission before heading in.
Gillespie Pond is a six-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational radar, and lacking the kind of public access or established fishery that would draw repeat traffic. No fish species data on file with DEC, which typically signals either minimal angling pressure or a pond that doesn't hold a consistent population worth documenting. These small southern Adirondack waters often sit on private land or in roadless pockets between more prominent destinations — useful as landmarks for locals, invisible to the rest of us.
The Glens Falls Feeder Canal is a working relic — a seven-mile remnant of the 1832 waterway that once fed the Champlain Canal, now maintained as a quiet linear park threading through the city of Glens Falls and into the northern Lake George corridor. The canal runs narrow and controlled, more riverwalk than wild water, with a crushed stone towpath on the east bank that doubles as a walking/cycling corridor. No fish data on record; this is not fishing water in any serious sense — it's urban infrastructure turned green space, a flat-water paddle or a shaded run between neighborhoods. Park access at Haviland Cove (north end) and multiple road crossings in town; the canal feeds into the Hudson River at the south terminus.
The Glens Falls Feeder Canal is a 2-acre remnant of the 1832 waterway that once carried logs and supplies from the Hudson River to the Champlain Canal — now a narrow, quiet strip of water threading through the southeastern edge of the Adirondack Park boundary. It's not wilderness water: you're in village context here, with road access and walking paths along the towpath, more urban greenway than backcountry destination. No fish data on record, no peaks in sight, no designated camping — this is the kind of water that matters more to local historians and morning joggers than to paddlers or anglers. If you're passing through Glens Falls en route to Lake George, the canal offers a five-minute glimpse of the working-water history that built the southern Adirondacks before tourism did.
Halls Pond is an 8-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough that most paddlers wouldn't make a dedicated trip, but the kind of spot that pulls locals off the road when they're already nearby. No fish species data on record, which likely means it's been passed over by DEC surveys or doesn't hold much of a population worth tracking. Access details are sparse in the public record, so this is one to scout in person or ask around town before loading the kayak. The acreage suggests a quick loop paddle at most — more of a quiet-water interlude than a destination.
Hovey Pond is a two-acre pocket of water in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't show up on most recreational fishing reports and quiet enough that it stays off the summer lake-hopping circuit. No maintained trail infrastructure or designated camping, and no fish stocking records in the DEC database, which means it functions more as a landscape feature than a destination. The kind of pond you pass on a bushwhack or notice from a ridgeline and file away as a landmark rather than a place to paddle or cast a line.
Inman Pond is a 13-acre water tucked into the eastern Lake George Wild Forest — small enough to feel like a find, large enough to paddle without running out of shoreline in twenty minutes. No public launch or marked trailhead appears on DEC maps, which typically means either old logging roads or bushwhacking from nearby forest access points; it's the kind of pond that shows up on USGS quads but not in the casual conversation at the Bolton boat launch. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these unmapped ponds — some accessible, some not, most quiet. Worth a map check and a scout if you're already working the woods south of Brant Lake or the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness boundary.
Kellum Pond is a 48-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to feel tucked away, large enough to hold interest if you're paddling or surveying the shoreline for access. No official fish records on file, which often means either light stocking history or private shoreline that limits angling pressure and data collection. The pond sits in that middle territory of Adirondack waters: not a destination hike, not a roadside pull-off, but the kind of place that shows up on a topo map when you're planning a back-road paddle or looking for something quiet between the bigger-name lakes. Worth a closer look if you're working the Lake George backcountry with a canoe and a flexible itinerary.
Lake Ann is a one-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that it sits below the threshold where most anglers and paddlers bother keeping records, which means no fish data and functionally no beta in the usual channels. Waters this size in the southern Adirondacks tend to be either roadside holdovers from old mill ponds or tucked into private-land drainages where public access is ambiguous at best. Without a DEC boat launch, a trail register, or a lean-to in the system, Lake Ann reads as either a local swimming spot with a grandfathered name or a cartographic footnote that never developed recreational infrastructure. If you're hunting it down, confirm access and ownership before you bushwhack.
Lake Elizabeth is a seven-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that "pond" is the more honest term, though the name stuck. No fish data on record and no formal trails or lean-tos in the DEC inventory, which suggests either private access or a water that sits just outside the recreational circuit most paddlers and anglers work. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these smaller waters tucked between the big-name destinations; some are posted, some are just off the map. If you're looking for Elizabeth specifically, start with the town clerk's office or a local realtor — access questions here run through property lines, not trailheads.
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.
Lake Nebo is a 112-acre pond in the Lake George region — big enough to hold water and a name, quiet enough that most travelers skip it for the bigger draws to the south. No fish data on file with DEC, which either means it hasn't been surveyed in decades or it's been surveyed and there's nothing to report; either way, it's not a fishing destination. The pond sits in that middle-distance category: not wild enough to feel remote, not developed enough to have a boat launch or a beach with a name. If you're looking for Lake George without the Lake George part, this is the template.
Lake of the Sacred Heart is a 17-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough to remain off most paddling itineraries, but named with the kind of gravity that suggests a chapel, a camp, or a private retreat somewhere in its history. No fish species on record, which typically means either limited access or a pond that doesn't hold trout through summer drawdown. The Lake George wild forest sprawls across dozens of ponds in this drainage; this one sits far enough from the main lake to avoid the boat traffic but close enough to share the same Champlain lowlands character — warmer water, deciduous hardwoods, and the occasional view of the eastern escarpment. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a visit.
Lake Pond — a 73-acre water in the Lake George Wild Forest — carries one of those placeholder names that suggests either settler indecision or a cartographer's shorthand that stuck. The pond sits in the wooded buffer east of Lake George proper, part of the quieter mid-elevation terrain that doesn't pull the crowds but holds its own for paddling and low-key exploration. No fish species data on file with DEC, which often means either limited stocking history or just a gap in the survey record — local anglers would know. Access details are sparse in the public record; start with the nearest Wild Forest trailhead or ask at the ranger station in Warrensburg.
Lake Sunnyside is a 38-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough to slip past most paddlers chasing the big water views, but large enough to hold a quiet morning if you find access. No fish species data on record, which either means it hasn't been surveyed in years or it's holding brookies that no one's bothering to report. The name suggests private development or an old resort footprint, common in the Lake George orbit where shoreline parcels were carved up and named decades before the Park drew its blue line. If you're looking for it, confirm access and ownership before you launch.
Lake Vanare is a 36-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough to hold a sense of enclosure, large enough to paddle without circling back every ten minutes. The name suggests private or semi-private history (likely a family name from an early camp lease or patent), and the absence of public data on access or fish stocking points to limited or gated entry — common in the southern Adirondacks where older lakeshore parcels were subdivided before the Forest Preserve expanded. If you're researching access, start with the town clerk in Bolton or Johnsburg; if you're already here, you know how you got in.
Lily Pond is a 17-acre water tucked into the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough to stay off the radar of most summer traffic, but accessible enough to work as a quiet paddle or a family fishing attempt when you need an hour away from the village crowds. No fish data on record, which typically signals light stocking history or none at all; it's the kind of pond where you bring a kayak and low expectations, or you use it as a turnaround point on a longer hike. The Lake George region has dozens of named ponds like this — not destinations, but useful spaces between the bigger water and the backcountry. Check the DEC Wild Forest map for current trail access and parking coordinates.
Little Pond — 31 acres, tucked somewhere in the Lake George region — is one of those named waters that exists more on the survey map than in the collective hiking memory. No fish stocking records, no trailhead chatter, no lean-to or campsite in the DEC inventory. It may be landlocked by private holdings, or it may simply sit in a drainage with better options nearby; either way, it's off the short list. If you know where it is and how to reach it legally, you're working from local knowledge or older property lines — not from a marked trail or a blue DEC disc.
Miller Pond is a one-acre pocket tucked into the southern Adirondack foothills near Lake George — small enough that it doesn't appear on many trail maps, and likely private or landlocked without documented public access. Waters this size in the Lake George region are often remnants of old beaver work or spring-fed depressions that hold through summer, more significant as wetland habitat than as paddling or fishing destinations. No fish species data on record, which tracks for a pond this small and potentially ephemeral. If you're hunting micro-ponds in this zone, confirm access and ownership before setting out — most one-acre waters here are bordered by private land.
Moses Kill is a 4-acre pond in the Lake George region — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreational maps, and remote enough that access details are effectively local knowledge. The name suggests old settlement-era surveying or logging activity (a "kill" being Dutch for creek or channel), though no formal trail or DEC campsite is associated with the water today. Without documented fish data or maintained access, this is the kind of pond that shows up in deed descriptions and on USGS quads but rarely sees intentional visitors. If you're headed there, you're likely bushwhacking or you already know the owner.
Mud Pond is a 16-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to slip past most paddlers, no fish data on file, and the kind of name that keeps the crowds elsewhere. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor, where the Lake George Wild Forest transitions into quieter, less-trafficked drainage — more likely to see a heron than another boat. Without designated campsites or a marquee trailhead nearby, it's a place for anyone mapping their own route through the southern Adirondacks, where a 16-acre pond with no pressure is exactly the point. Check DEC access maps before heading in — not all small ponds in this zone have maintained approaches.
Mud Pond — a 12-acre water in the Lake George region — sits in the category of ponds that reward the effort to find them but don't advertise their location. No fish data on record, no nearby peaks, no maintained trail infrastructure in the database: this is a pond for wanderers who like their Adirondack waters without the amenities. The name tells you what to expect underfoot — soft margins, muck bottom, probably beaver activity — and the size tells you what to expect on the water: intimate, shallow, the kind of place where a canoe or kayak makes more sense than a fishing rod. If you know where it is, you already know why you're going.
Mud Pond — three acres in the Lake George Wild Forest — is one of those small, unnamed-on-most-maps wetlands that dot the region's mid-elevation forests. No fish stocking records, no trail register, no lean-to: it's the kind of water you find by accident on a bushwhack or notice from a ridgeline while heading somewhere else. The name tells you what to expect — shallow, marshy shoreline, likely beaver activity, and better suited to spotting wood ducks or a moose track than planning a fishing trip. If you're looking for solitude and don't mind wet boots, ponds like this deliver exactly that.
Mud Pond is one of those small, wooded ponds in the Lake George region that carries its name honestly — shallow, organic-bottomed, more wetland than open water, and the kind of place that fills in a little more each decade. At 20 acres it's not a destination water, but it holds its place in the drainage, quietly cycling nutrients and hosting frogs, turtles, and the occasional wood duck. No fish data on record, which tracks for a pond this small and soft-bottomed. If you're looking for solitude over scenery, and you don't mind a little muck underfoot, it delivers.
Mud Pond — all ten acres of it — sits somewhere in the sprawl of state land and private parcels west of Lake George, the kind of small water that shows up on the DEC list but doesn't generate its own trailhead sign or parking pull-off. No fish stocking records, no documented access notes, no nearby peaks to anchor a day trip — which means it's either genuinely remote, landlocked by private holdings, or both. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these small ponds, some reachable by bushwhack or old logging trace, others effectively inaccessible without crossing posted land. If you're hunting for it, start with the DEC unit management plan and a phone call to the Ray Brook office.
Number Nine Pond is a 12-acre pocket of water in the Lake George wild forest — small enough to miss on a map, quiet enough to feel like you earned it. The name comes from the old Great Lot survey system that carved up this stretch of Washington County in the 18th century; you'll find Number Ten Pond and Number Eleven Pond on the same grid to the east. No DEC fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing — worth a cast if you're already back here. Access details are scarce in the public record, but ponds this size in this region typically mean bushwhacking or unmaintained trails off old logging roads.
O'Keefe Pond is a 12-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to slip past most maps, large enough to hold its own quiet. No fish stocking records on file, no marked trails leading in, no lean-tos advertised — which usually means either private shoreline or a walk-in situation known mostly to locals who've been there since childhood. Waters like this tend to sit in the gap between state land and private holdings, accessed by old logging roads or neighborhood right-of-ways that don't make it into the DEC trail guides. If you're looking for it, start with the town tax maps and a conversation at the nearest general store.
Pickerel Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it rarely shows up on regional maps and quiet enough that it stays that way. The name suggests brook trout or native pickerel at some point in its history, but no recent stocking or survey data appears in DEC records, and the pond's size and elevation make it marginal habitat for anything but resident brookies if the dissolved oxygen holds through winter. Access details are scarce; if you're heading in, expect bushwhacking or an unmaintained footpath, and plan accordingly. Worth a look if you're working the Wild Forest corridors south of Bolton and comfortable navigating by topo.
Poker Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it reads more like a widening in a wetland corridor than a destination pond. No official fish survey data on record, and no marked trail appears on DEC maps, which suggests either informal local access or a bushwhack approach through private or state land that hasn't drawn enough traffic to warrant infrastructure. The name likely predates the Wild Forest designation — gaming references show up often in 19th-century Adirondack toponomy, though the story behind this one hasn't surfaced in regional historical records. Worth confirming access legality before heading in.
Round Pond sits in the southern Adirondacks near the Lake George Wild Forest boundary — 80 acres of undeveloped water in a region better known for its resort lakefront and roadside campgrounds. No formal DEC access or launch facilities; local knowledge and older Forest Preserve maps suggest a bushwhack approach from nearby dirt roads, but expect a quiet, low-traffic paddle if you make the effort. No fish data on file, which usually means minimal stocking history and light angling pressure. This is a walk-in pond in a drive-to district — more solitude than most Lake George-area waters, but you'll work for it.
Round Pond sits in the Lake George Wild Forest east of the big lake — a 36-acre stillwater that sees far less traffic than its famous neighbor. No fish data on record, and no formal DEC lean-to or campsite inventory, but the pond sits in backcountry that's open to dispersed camping under standard Wild Forest rules: 150 feet from water, below 3,500 feet. The shoreline is mixed hardwood and hemlock; access typically comes via unmarked woods roads or old logging traces rather than maintained trail — the kind of water you find by intention, not accident. Bring a topo and don't expect parking coordinates.
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.
