After a twenty year hiatus (I used to fish with my father when I was younger) I have recently taken up fly fishing again at the ripe old age of thirty-eight. My success rate so far has been sketchy to say the least; four outings last year resulted in a grand total of just two fish. I picked the casting up again reasonably quickly, albeit after numerous tangles and a few hooked collars, but I’m definitely lacking water craft. My fly box is a mish-mash of flies which came as part of a job-lot from ebay and local favourites I picked up on fishing trips last year (I can’t be the only one with a penchant for picking up a couple of new flies each time?). I’ve come to the dawning realisation that I don’t really know what I’m doing; which flies to try, when to try them or how best to fish them. The few times I’ve managed to get out, I’ve started off with hope and confidence but have quickly become despondent and resorted to throwing on any flies in desperation.

I’ve therefore made two New Year resolutions (and resolved to stick to them): firstly, to go fishing more often and, secondly, to try to understand what I am doing and why, in the hope that I’ll have more successful days on the water. I found an excellent book by Brian Clarke (The Pursuit of Stillwater Trout) from 1975 which provides a logical insight into catching trout using a natural approach. Having read the book from cover to cover several times, I think I have a better understanding of what trout eat, the lifecycle of natural fly life, what I’m trying to imitate, which flies to use and how to fish them. Time to put the theory into practice.

It was my birthday over Christmas so I decided to treat myself to a days fishing. Living in Hampshire, I’m spoilt for small fisheries but they can be rather expensive, especially for a novice. I decide on Meon Springs which operates two catch and keep lakes and a catch and release section which, looking on the positive side, means I can carry on fishing if I bag a couple of early fish. It’s a cris[ winters day but the sun is out and it’s quite pleasant when I arrive. There is no sign of life on the surface and the water is unusually murky, no doubt due to the recent rain. I decide to start on Coombe lake which is the smaller but deeper of the two catch and keep lakes.

Using the small amount of knowledge I have gained, I decide to try a black, holo buzzer. After no luck for twenty minutes I change to an olive buzzer, then an orange buzzer and finally a red buzzer, after remembering young buzzers are called bloodworms, but with no interest. I lengthen my leader a little and try a couple of weighted buzzers, just to see if the trout are hanging around the bottom but still no luck.

Still feeling reasonably positive, albeit disappointed I haven’t had a single bite, I decide I’ve tried enough buzzers to be relatively sure the trout aren’t interested in them and switch to plan b; nymphs. I try a pheasant tail and hares ear in various shades and weights as well as a small olive damsel; still no interest. I decide to break for a quick bite of late lunch and switch to Whitewool lake, still on the nymphs. After another hour, I still have nothing to show and the wind has picked up into my face making my still slightly dodgy casting a bit tricky. Normally, you’d just move to the other side with the wind at your back but there are trees lining the opposite bank and I’m not confident enough in my casting just yet to take those on.

I pop back to Coombe lake for the last hour before it starts to get dark. Within no time, I start to get that desperate feeling as my time runs out and I’m still on a blank. I start changing my fly every ten minutes; my previous logical approach has now completely gone out of the window and I’m just peppering the water with as many different flies as I can. In desperation, and with the light fading, I throw on a gold, tinselly nymph for no other reason than I’ve tried most other flies and its Christmas. I cast out and let the fly sink for ten second before giving the line a long draw to straighten everything out and suddenly feel resistance. In hope more than anything else I strike and I’m into a lovely 4lb rainbow who puts up a decent fight before I get it in the net.

I go home much happier than I would have been five minutes before but not much the wiser in terms of knowledge gained; the logical, imitative approach got me zip but a gold sparkly nymph came up trumps. But perhaps there is a lesson to be learned; perhaps sometimes trout are just as interested in something bright and sparkly as we are.