You Can Lead a Horse to Water...

A week ago I spent an evening pouring jig-heads using a melting pot and a Do-It mold , both given to me by my parents as a recent birthday present. There is something very satisfying about the process. To melt down old lead equipment or scrap and bring about a new and very useful piece of tackle, trim off the excess, paint them with cheap fingernail polish, top-coat with sparkles...ah, it's primitive, manly. Some would argue the process boring, but with no T.V. to soak my brain what else should I do?

Here in New Hampshire we just passed a new ban on both the use and sale of lead fishing gear. Rest easy, there are stipulations in the new law I was careful to adhere to and consequently am still a law abiding and upright citizen. The new law states,

"The law prohibits the sale in New Hampshire of lead sinkers weighing 1 ounce or less and lead jigs less than 1 inch long along their longest axis."

In the brochures promoting this new law there are certain pieces of this new law that are left out. "Weighing one ounce or less," and "less than 1 inch long along their longest axis," are often omitted in favor of simply saying, "remove lead jig-heads from your tackle box, It's the law!" I checked and double checked the verbiage of the new law before proceeding, and even used much of my illegal stock to supply lead for my new gear.

As I carried out this beautiful process of manly arts and crafts time, I pondered the new laws and wondered what the stink was all about. I knew from coffee talk that it was brought in effect after a study directly linked the death of loons to slip shot sinkers. Apparently there aren't many lobbyists for the lead fishing tackle industry. We HUMANS are supposed to limit our consumption of fish due to mercury content. Last time I checked I don't have any gear containing mercury, so where does that finger end up pointing?

I did a little investigating on my own. I know this is common sense for many people, but there is a suprising amount of information out there confirming lead as a VERY DANGEROUS substance. I paint houses for a day job, and every can of paint I open has a "removing lead paint can make you dead" warning on it. Some blame lead for the fall of Rome, and some accuse our own imperial leader of biting down on one too many slip shots while fishing with his Daddy. Some who would like to remain using their lead tackle use the "better than Detroit" argument (similar to my mercury quips). Regardless of what angle taken there is one common thread; everyone agrees lead is dangerous. With a new baby in the house, and the warnings of where the airborne particles can land, I believe I have poured my last lead head.

So, what now? The ready alternative is Tin. Tin is touted by many, Cabelas included, as being not only a safe alternative to lead, but also a superior metal. It doesn't damage as easily, it doesn't tarnish, and Stripers voted 3 to 1 in favor of tin over lead. I'm sold. I'm using tin. My obstacle now is where to find it. Finding lead has never been much of a problem. People don't want it. It's dangerous (who knew?), so they are fine with giving it to me. Tin, on the other hand, is more expensive, and apparently not as readily available. So, my quest continues to find a good source of tin. So far, I have had no luck, but I will keep trying. Apparently there is little room for the old adage, "You can lead a horse to water, but a jig-head must be lead." Now days, my fellow anglers and I will spend our free time "pushing tin."

For my favorite commentary on the dangers of lead fishing gear visit http://www.straightdope.com/mailbag/mfishsinkers.html.

Team Lund

Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.
~Henry David Thoreau




I have been fishing with family and friends since the beginning. The beginning is some time ago shortly before I lost a push-button zebco rod and reel combo to an ambitious walleye while floating with my family over Loder's Point on Lake Kanopolis, Kansas in a tiller driven "green queen" aluminum puddle jumper. I was sipping coke; Mr. Walleye was munching worms. That day I learned to use a spinning reel.
In high school, Josh Burger and I would race out of school, after discussing plans across the brass section of band, to his house N.W. of Salina and pursue largemouth bass, bluegill, and whatever we could catch from ponds located in nearby farm pastures. For $100 we bought a flat bottom river boat that would later be dubbed, "little flip" as we used a electric trolling motor to putter down rivers and over ponds. I don't advise eating bullheads from cattle pasture ponds, but I can't say I've never done it.
Sometime in college I borrowed, on a long term arrangement with my grandfather, a 1972 Lund "Alaskan" with a 40HP Johnson Seahorse engine and started pursuing open water fish on somewhat nearby reservoirs. I imitated everything I had learned while fishing with my Father (my life long fishing partner) and our friend, Barry Bohn. I later discovered, while fishing with James "Woodie" Stamper, the advantages of a small rig over my mentors' slightly larger fishing boats and learned to troll shallow water across points and pluck walleye from the rock structures. We would yawn through training as "Resident Assistants," shake our heads at the absurdity of so much attention placed on activities having nothing to do with education or advancement of craft, and shift our discussion to the seasonal behaviors of white bass. We also discovered you can flat run a boat out of gas trolling after those little buggers. Oops.
The Lund followed me. I met the love of my life, proposed to her while on a catfishing trip on Milford Lake, Ks (in the boat) thereby sealing the fate of the boat as a permanent member of our family. In my grandfather's final summer, we spent a good deal of time together. We went on one final fishing trip together, and he later made the boat legally mine for the official sale price of $1.
After an educationally rich episode in San Diego, Ca with not much fishing beyond the docks downtown, Trisha and I packed up and moved to New Hampshire where we currently reside. The Lund, "Big Flip" (a larger version of the aforementioned "little flip") joined us and we now happily boat the Lamprey River in Newmarket (salt and fresh), Great Bay, Bow lake, and are working on as many other bodies as we can find access.
It has been while fishing here in New Hampshire that the concept of "Team Lund" has taken place. A fellow colleague of the arts, Christopher Cote aka "Asa"(www.ccabridged.blogspot.com), and I spend the majority of our time plotting new theatrical or musical projects, picking on guitars or mandolins, grilling red meat, white meat, and greens, and discerning the subtle and not so subtle flavor characteristics of many beer and wines. Not many of these activities have been done without some discussion (and in many cases a great deal of discussion) of the current trends of fish behavior. We have been known to philosophize for hours the intricate personalities of smelt, striped bass, blue fish, largemouth bass, crappie, bluegill, brook trout, brown trout, rainbow...ah, just trout, smallmouth bass, salmon, pickerel, bullheads/horned pout, channel cats, and even chub minnows. Neither one of us really know a thing about it. We are trained magazine readers and chatroom surfers. We cling to hearsay as if it were gospel, and we pursue small tips with great fervor. We are currently mastering the art of what we call "tip fishing." (see sidebar) A tip from an article, bait shop, or town drunk will send us into a gill hungry frenzy comparable to that of teen-aged boys on a top-less beach. In addition to being great beer testers, we also boast solid educations in the arts. Chris a magnificent composer and I a highly trained (I've got the student loan debt to prove it) actor/director, we have produced (as part of a larger team of artists) more than a few pieces of art through our company, Gamaliel Theatre Company (www.gamalieltheatre.com). It is probably from this side of our brain that "Team Lund" originated. Chris, in addition to composer, is also an amateur film maker. We video pieces of any given fishing trip. The slow zoom is my personal signature while Chris relies on other, less cliche, methods. He will then go home to his lair and create magic with well placed cuts and stunningly appropriate music selections. Our entertainment is furthered by the fictional world of being a film making company specializing in the real battle of fishing successfully with limited resources (unlike our commercial prototypes). The videos, beautiful creations, are bold and unrefined, easy on the palette, and leave a very soothing finish, but mostly they show two people utilizing skills of deduction, fervor for fishing, and highly creative spirit. We are Leslie Coates and Christopher "Asa" Cote. Together, we are "Team Lund."

In the beginning...

It rained. The weather of 2006 has not been blessings of the skies that our chosen "fishing" people might hope (ice fishing was, for the most part, a bust) but we make due. After a key tip from my comrade and fellow team member, Asa, I headed for Crawley Falls in Brentwood. The rain was...wet. It was not driving nor drenching, it was not misting nor sleeting, it simply was. Armed with waders and a rain jacket I spent under two hours throwing a Colorado spinner trailed with a worm. I did take notice, and this has been confirmed by Asa, that removing the slip shot often placed 12" above the hook yielded better results. I turned the first small brook trout back with a prayer of thanksgiving and praise of our Lord's beauty and grace, and moved back upstream. This tradition of turning the first fish of the year back to the water was handed down to me from a favorite local New Englander, Joe Jr.. I added the prayer. This was slightly robbed by our original locals with a dash of Christianity added for personal relevance. As the year continues, 2006 will most likely not soak every trip with foul weather, but even if it does we will do as we do and keep doing.

An angler is a man who spends rainy days sitting around on the muddy banks of rivers doing nothing because his wife won't let him do it at home. ~Author Unknown