Breakthrough at Upper Otay 3/29

Last week I got a wild hair and decided to grab a fly rod and a chest pack and go walk the shore at Upper Otay to see if the fish were willing to cooperate. To keep it short; I hooked two bluegill, lost them both. But, while I was working one spot, 3 of my fishing buddies floated by in their float tubes. They reported solid numbers on bluegills. I decided it was time to break out the float tube for my return.

Once parked at the small, dirt parking area along Otay Lakes Road, I pulled all my gear out the trunk of my little Civic. I pumped up my float tube, struggled into my filthy waders, and loaded tackle into the tube's compartments. The road to Upper Otay's parking lot is still closed, so I clipped the backpack straps on, hoisted my tube onto my back, grabbed my rod and kick fins, and began the long trudge up and over the hill to the lake.

It was a beautiful, Spring day. A little warmer at the lakes than near Downtown San Diego, the mid-70s I'd guess. The sky was blue, and the flowers on the hills were all in bloom, but it was a bit windier than I like. By any account it was a near perfect day.

After paying the iron ranger, I launched, and immediately noticed the wind was going to be more of an issue in the tube. (I geeked out a little today and brought my GPS to track my meanderings around the lake. 1.2 miles in 4 hours, 27 minutes at a heart-pumping .3 miles per hour). I probably should have kicked straight over to the eastern shore so I'd have the wind to my back (in a tube you travel backwards, with the wind at your back you can maintain position by slowly kicking your feet), but there were two or three gear anglers working that side, and the western shore was deserted. I can be impatient, and indecisive, so the deserted shore meant I could tootle around at my every whim. Also, the density of the reeds and proximity of a hillside cuts down a lot on the wind once you get in tight to the shore. On top of that, the afternoon sun casts comforting shadows in which fish like to hide.

I worked my way up the western shore, moving north, with only one half-hearted strike. It was still early, so I wasn't getting the panic yet. About halfway up (I can give you exact coordinates) I got a text message from Scott, saying he was going to park and walk in from the north side to fish from shore. I worked the shoreline pretty intently, dropping a variety of flies as near the reeds as I could. I let the weighted ones sink slowly into the feeding zone, and slowly twitched them back to me. The floating poppers I cast as near the reeds as possible, left to sit, then twitched enticingly. When conditions are right, and that's what bass or bluegill are keying on, it can induce explosive surface strikes; it's like crack to a fisherman.

I rounded a little point, near a place informally referred to as "the drop off," which is where the 3 fellas from last week had reported some success. I could see an occasional flash off Scott's fly rod over the reeds now. I made a cast into the shallow water above the drop off, began a slow, intermittent retrieve, and glanced up to see if I could see what Scott was up to. Fish seem to know when I'm not paying attention. Maybe my laser concentration transfers down to the fly, I don't know, but as soon as I directed attention from the fly line to Scott I got a heavy strike. I set the hook and kicked away from shore a little. Bluegill have a distinctive fight, especially smaller ones, that's kind of wiggly. Meaning they don't make fast, straight runs, or leap out of the water, but they seem to wiggle, and race back and forth. This was a heavy, old, strong gill. I had stripped in my line to the leader and I still couldn't lift this fish to where I could see him. Scott had taken notice of the the fight, possibly because I was shouting "Dude! Dude! Monster gill!"


Upper Otay is known amongst local fly fishers to have a quality class of bluegill. The average size of these gillies is above the norm, there are a lot of them, and they aren't super easy to entice. It makes for a challenging fishery that can be rewarding but frustrating. In fact, all last year I found it frustrating. I was able to get a couple here or there, but I think 4 was my best day, and even that was a lot work.

This bluegill stormed back and forth, refusing to get nearer the surface. I was using a short, 4-weight fly rod I like because it makes the relatively small bluegill more sporting. It also makes horsing in a fish a little more difficult. Scott chuckled as I struggled to land the fish. Finally, after multiple attempts to bring the 'gill to the surface the fish wore out to a point where I could lift him to my hand. This was without a doubt my personal-best bluegill, easily covering my hand. I snapped a few pictures, slid him back into the green lake water to watch him bolt into the murk.


About this time Scott was hooked up to his first bluegill in the shallow water near shore. The afternoon was already a success, and it wasn't long before I had another large bluegill to hand. The Drop off was paying off, as long as I got my flies up near the reeds and kept the retrieve slow. Scott landed a small bass, and not long after, my third, then fourth meaty bluegill came aboard. I moved a little north and picked up a small, 10-inch large mouth bass.

Scott and I split up as he went to look for another spot on the shoreline, and the sun was getting close to the hilltops, so I needed to work back towards the launch area. I picked up a couple more fish while chatting with a bass fisherman. For once the bass guys were impressed with the frequency and size of the fish I was bringing in. It often seems they look with amusement at us fly fishers. I don't blame them.

The sun had set, and the temperature dropped significantly. I decided to skip a good portion of shoreline, and kick across the middle of the lake. I saw Scott wading an area ripe with fish-holding structure, and he was doing pretty well. A cool thing about a serene lake is you can have a conversation with someone hundreds of yards away without even having to yell. As I kicked by, dragging my fly behind me (BTW, all fish were caught on a size 14 black woolly bugger), I got a strike and landed a haggard, skinny, sickly-looking large mouth about 16 inches. This put me at 6 bluegills, 2 bass. My best day on Upper Otay. I don't think any of my previous bluegill on this lake were as big as all but one I caught today.

Not wanting to stop fishing a hot bite (the bladder only holds out for so long) I worked the area around the launch for 2 more bluegill, and a few missed strikes. That was more than enough to make my day, and I was getting pretty chilly. I thought my crusty waders had been leaking all day, but it was just the cold water against my waders. I got and relieved the pressure, loaded up and hiked over the hill to my car. I got some bassin' tips from the other tubers when they all got back to the parking area, shared my pics, and talked with a guy I'd run into a few times on the lake. Finally, a breakthrough on my favorite lake.