I’ve arranged an early meeting with a client not too far away from Meon Springs, a beautiful little fishery nestled away in the heart of Hampshire, so I decide to have an afternoon fishing. Slightly shamefully, I rush the meeting a little in my eagerness to get out on the water so I arrive by lunchtime and am stood on the edge of Whitewool lake by 1pm. It’s a lovely sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky. I know this is normally difficult for fishing but Meon Springs is such a lovely place to spend a sunny afternoon that it doesn’t seem to matter, at least not at the moment. Meon Springs is set in a remote valley in the rolling green fields of Hampshire and is one of the most peaceful places you could imagine. The fishery comprises two catch and take pools and a long, thin pool, more like a river which offers catch and release for a clutch of tricky resident brown trout.

Whitewool lake is shallow and crystal clear. I walk round the bank by the lodge, checking out the fish as I go. They are ambling along, seemingly not doing much which is probably due to the heat and the sun. I decide to go over to the far side which is backed by trees; more difficult to cast but it means there are patches of water shaded from the sun. As I approach I see a couple of delicate rises in the shaded water, so quickly tackle up with a CDC emerger on a 12 foot leader. I cast out carefully, trying desperately not to splash my line and land the fly as softly as possible under the shade of a large tree. There are fish rising around my fly but after fifteen minutes I have no takes so change to a klinkhammer. Almost immediately, I have a take but I’m far too quick to strike and miss the fish. A couple of casts later, I have another take, just a gentle sip and my fly disappears, but again, even though I try to delay the strike, I miss the fish. The fish prove difficult to hook and even after a few more takes, I still haven’t managed to actually get one on the end of my line; I’ve read that you need to wait for a relatively long time before striking when fishing dry flies but its an instinctive reaction when you see fish taking your fly. I carry on for another hour but the activity soon dries up as the sun rises above the trees and I fear I’ve missed my opportunity.

I decide to try Whitewool lake which is deeper and a bit more shaded, in the hope that the water may be a little cooler and the fish might be a little less docile. I wait for five minutes to see what’s happening but there is no sign of any activity on the surface so I plumb for a black, holo buzzer which has worked for me before. I’ve been reading up on some more techniques, particularly on finding fish, which I decide to put into practice.  I fan cast across the water and try different depths by counting down but have no takes. I try a couple of nymphs with no luck and then decide to try an olive buzzer. My line hits the water and I start to countdown to five when the line goes tight and I strike into a fish; lovely. A few minutes later, I bring in a lovely 3 1/2lb rainbow. I quickly get my line out again, excited that I might have found what the fish are on but an hour later I’ve had nothing else.

I decide to go back to Coombe lake to see if there is any action on top of the water as the afternoon slides into evening but no such luck. I notice that there are some bright blue dragonflies floating around so I check my little “match the hatch” book to see what the nymph is; so that’s what a damsel is! I have a damsel in my box with a flash of blue which seems like it would make sense. I try slow retrieves with no interest, so decide to try and quick strip to see if it will prompt the fish into some action. I get a couple of follows but no takers and after another hour, I decide to call it a day.

Before I leave, I grab a beer from the lodge and sit outside watching the sun setting over the hills. Not the best days haul, I reflect, but a lovely day for fishing nonetheless.