Wilkes-barre Rec Dept Holds Tennis Camp

Aldo Russo 
Aug. 9, 1996 
Aldo Russo, 88, Of New Hancock Street, Wilkes-barre, And Formerly Of Scott 
Street, Parsons, Wilkes-barre, Died Friday At Home.

By GEORGE SMITH; Times Leader Outdoors Editor
 Sunday, August 11, 1996 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Page: 





It was too late to catch the morning Trico hatch and too early for any
evening mayfly activity on the Lackawaxen River. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At 11 a.m., a hazy sun was succeeding at bursting through the cloud cover.
It was warm and sweaty in waders. Not a caddis could be found fluttering
anywhere on the water. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That's fishing. Sometimes you're too early, or too late. When it comes to
angling, being in just the right place at just the right time requires careful
planning, not luck. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The Lackawaxen River pours into the Delaware River at the town of
Lackawaxen in Pike County. Upriver, it's fed by several other streams, most
notably the Dyberry Creek. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But the single most significant aspect of the Lackawaxen from Hawley
downriver to the Delaware is that water released from giant Lake Wallenpaupack
flows into it. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At the town of Kimbles, about three miles downriver from Hawley, a
Pennsylvania Power and Light Company plant releases water into the Lackawaxen.
That water is piped to the plant by way of an aqueduct from Lake
Wallenpaupack. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At any given time, PP&amp;L might release water to help satisfy its energy
needs. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The river rises quickly and significantly during a water release. Anglers
have been stranded on the far shore or on large boulders in mid-river for
hours until PP&amp;L ended the release and the raging waters subsided. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Other anglers have not been so lucky. There have been drownings, despite
conspicuous warning signs. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I kept this in mind, wading wet into the Lackawaxen between Kimbles and
Rowland. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Find a small rock on shore and keep your eye on it. If the water rises and
it disappears, get out of the river," advised Ron Ushing, from Plains. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Ushing and George Sincavage, also from Plains, baited up on shore while I
sliced tomatoes for a sandwich. Considering the time of day, and the absence
of insects, I knew I was in for a tough time with a fly rod. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But Ushing and Sincavage remained optimistic. Both cast small worms into a
deeper pool at the mouth of a little feeder stream that trickled out of the
shaded woods and into the Lackawaxen. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Perhaps cooler water from the feeder would attract trout to the pool, I
thought. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Then I tied on a Hare's Ear bead head nymph and waded toward faster water. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I chose to fish the tumbling, oxygen-rich riffle instead of the pool. Trout
often congregate in such splashy chutes when water temperature rises and
oxygen levels drop. The fast, foaming, bubbling water becomes oxygenated just
like aquarium water becomes oxygenated when an aerator is placed in the tank. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The Lackawaxen River is well-stocked from the Delaware up to Kimbles. It is
not uncommon to catch large holdovers in the Lackawaxen. Nor is it uncommon to
catch big Delaware River trout that chose to journey up the Lackawaxen. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Mike Laskowski, a Plains fly-tier who now operates Oil Creek Outfitters in
Oil Creek State Park in Venango County, told me of large brown trout taken
from the Lackawaxen. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Laskowski used to fish the river often when he had a fly shop in Plains. He
said one evening, late, very large fish took one of his nymphs and ran up and
down the river. Laskowski said he thought he had a huge brown trout on the end
of his line the way the fish muscled into the currents. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 That fish turned out to be a six-pound shad. But the fact that Laskowski
thought it was a huge brown made me realize that such fish were not unknown to
the Lackawaxen. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Six-pound browns. That is what made me anxious as I waded up to my knees
and started to cast. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Then it stuck me. I had felt no shock, no increase in hearbeat, no
uncomfortable feeling as I walked into the river wearing wading shoes, but not
waders. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The river was warm, very warm, as it splashed around my knees. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I dropped a stream thermometer into the water and continued to cast. Five
minutes later the thermometer registered 78 degrees. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I realized then I was in for a very challenging afternoon. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 At some point I memorized a table that revealed the optimum water
temperatures for various Pennsylvania gamefish. If my memory is correct,
virtually all the trout found in state streams function best in water
temperatures between 50 and 65 degrees. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Brook trout avoid water much warmer than 70 degrees, and browns and
rainbows become uncomfortable when water temperatures reach 75 degrees. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Anything much above 70 and the trout become extremely sluggish or migrate
to cooler pools, feeder streams or spring seeps. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 And there I was, in 78-degree water, nymphing. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I yelled upriver to Ushing, telling him the water temp. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He shook his head, reeled in his line and waded toward shore. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Too hot," he muttered. "Maybe later this evening." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Using switched back and forth between spinning gear and a fly-fishing
outfit without taking a trout. But the patient Sincavage connected. In the
pool. Where the little feeder stream poured in. With a worm. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The trout was small, but it was a trout. It swam back down deep when it was
released. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "We could be here a long time before we catch trout in this heat," Ushing
said. "It might be after dark before the water temperature drops." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 I agreed and kept tossing the bead head into fast water. Sincavage plucked
a lively worm from a plastic container kept in a cooler and cast again and
again into the river. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Finally the futility of mid-day trout fishing hit hard. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Trout fishing in August. Sometimes you're too early or too late. It takes
planning to be in the right place at the right time. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 TIMES LEADER/GEORGE SMITH &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 George Sincavage, left, and Ron Ushing, both from Plains Township, fish the
Lackawaxen River. The river was too warm for trout at mid-day. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

Timing Is Everything In The Hunt For Trout Afternoon Fishing On The Lackawaxen Proves An Exercise In Futility