Upper Otay is semi-secluded, near where Scott and I grew up. Kind of nestled in the foothills. When we were in high school, we used to jump off the dam at one end. Since then the dam's been chopped in a V-shape in the middle. We assumed it was to keep kids like us from jumping off of it. Now almost the entire dam is covered in graffiti. Kind of lame.
Scott suggested we walk in from the road. That way we could catch the sunset bite, and not be booted out of the parking lot by the ranger. We parked, and went about getting our waders and boots on, grabbing packs, and rods, and headed off up the trail. I was pretty intrigued to see what this was going to be like. I'd never fished there, but Scott's been there quite a few times, and had done well. He's even had an article about it published in California Fly Fisher. So you'd think we would have caught a fish.
We went to a spot that was conducive to fly fishing, and set about it. I'm not real experienced in a lot of freshwater fly fishing. I stick to the salt for the most part. But I have fished for bass, and know that fish generally like to hang near structure. The weather's been kinda cold the last couple of days, and the nights have been in the low 40s. Bass and bluegill are known as warm-water species. The water was stained a red-brown, presumably from the recent rains. It was pretty tough to see a fly much below the surface. Still, we were there to fish, and began working any structure we could get near.
Like our trip last week, we were largely left watching the birds who use the lake. Many of the same birds that frequent the bay also use the lake; egrets, scoters, herons, as well as mallards, and redheads.
At one point we split up, and I walked around the lake to find another spot to fish. Found a protected little spot, kind of messy but just big enough to get off some roll casts. I took a step in, and saw a turtle working its way under some floating sticks. I took another step in and figured it heard me, it was working pretty hard to nestle itself through the sticks. I felt my way to another step in. The turtle poked it's head above the debris, and when it saw me it bolted.
The little cove was surrounded by birds; the ducks, red-winged blackbirds, an occasional egret. The sound of all their songs was incredible. It really made the fact that we were less than a mile from sprawling suburbs a little hard to believe. The golden light of the setting sun, across the lake from me, really set a serene mood.
I made as many casts as I could, frequently getting snagged, to not so much as a strike. I could see across the lake to where we'd started. Scott had made his way back, and I could see him working the area again, so I carefully waded out to head back around the lake. After answering Nature's call, I made the walk of abut a half mile back to where Scott was.
I picked a spot away from where Scott was, but close enough where we could hold a conversation. I was asking him about what he'd caught there, and what species he thought might be in there. As I was mentioning bluegill, he kind of started laughing. I looked over and his rod had a little bend to it, but we'd been getting caught up in grasses all afternoon. I thought he might have a bluegill on, and was laughing because we'd just been talking about it. But it was a turtle. It was hooked under the chin, in the part of the neck that gave the name to ugly cold-weather shirt.
Scott asked for some help, thinking it may have been a snapping turtle, and the first thing that came to mind was, "I hope you debarbed that hook." I pulled my forcepts out of their "sheath", unclipped them from their retractor, and tried to get a grip on the fly without giving the "snapping" turtle a chance to get me. Fortunately, the fly practically fell out, and we escaped any "situation" with an innocent turtle.
It was about then we decided to call it an evening. We hit a few spots on the way back, but it was obvious by now that the fish weren't biting. We made our way back to the car as the ranger was pulling in to escort 3 float tubers out so she could lock the gate.
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