Demise of Lagoon Would Tarnish the Gleam on ‘America’s Finest City’

Last July, my sister and her husband came out to California to visit me and brought with them their 10-year-old daughter, Nicole. She is just about the sweetest little kid you could ever meet--intelligent, well-behaved and cute as can be. And she loves her “Uncle Chuck.”

We spent several pleasant days visiting all the tourist spots around San Diego, exploring the mission, shopping at the stores in Old Town and getting splashed by Shamu at Sea World. Finally, on the last day of their visit, they decided to spend a day relaxing at the beach. Nicole had never seen the ocean before her trip, and it fascinated her. She loves the water and had learned to water-ski at the age of 3. So I lent them my Boogie Board, and they all took the short walk from my home down to Torrey Pines State Beach.

When I joined them later in the day, I noticed the open channel to Los Penasquitos Lagoon and the red pollution-warning signs posted on either side along the beach. My relatives had noticed them, too, and had moved farther down the beach beyond the signs. I didn’t think much of it then, since the lagoon always has some pollution in it, and whenever the city bulldozes the sand bar blocking the entrance, warning signs usually are posted.

It wasn’t until two days later, after my relatives had left, that I learned why those signs were there. Pump Station 64 had just had one of the worst sewage spills into Los Penasquitos Lagoon in years--1.5 million gallons. And my niece Nicole had been swimming in it! I still haven’t gotten over my fear that someday Nicole is going to come down with hepatitis because of an innocent swim in the ocean and the City of San Diego’s callous disregard for the lives and health of its people.

This finally made me mad enough to do something. Until then, I had been merely annoyed.

The problem of sewage in the lagoon was an inconvenience, something to bring up in conversation whenever someone mentioned those “damn politicians in City Hall” or those “greedy developers.”

But now it was threatening the life of someone I loved, and I did something I had never done before. The next time the issue of Pump Station 64 came before the Regional Water Quality Control Board, I went to the meeting and actually got up in front of everyone and spoke out. I asked them to throw the book at the City of San Diego.

It didn’t do any good. The developers, with their lawyers in three-piece suits, were there in force. The city even produced a movie about the spill showing why it wasn’t responsible, and in any case it wouldn’t happen again (but it has). I wish the city would produce a movie explaining to us why we have to live with the consequences. Perhaps movie producer George Lucas would do it; it would certainly have to contain more fantasy and special effects than all three “Star Wars” movies combined.

This won’t happen, of course. The sewage wasn’t even dry on the shores of the lagoon last March when the city Planning Department approved another housing development in the area, this time right on the lagoon itself. Another 100 gallons per house to spill into the lagoon the next time Pump Station 64 breaks down.

Contrary to popular opinion, the lagoon polluted with sewage from Pump Station 64 does not smell. It would be better if it did. Then, at least, people would have some warning that the water is dangerous. The only way you can tell that is by analyzing it for bacteria. That means that you have to depend on the sometimes-tardy actions of the city in posting warning signs. During the last spill, the signs were not posted in some areas of the lagoon until two days after the spill. And even then the signs were too few to be effective. I have seen mothers bathing their children in the lagoon while 200 yards away a single warning sign lies face down in the sand.

The famous smell that you have heard about only occurs later. This happens when nutrients in the sewage cause the population of algae in the water to drastically increase. This is called an algae bloom. After a sewage spill, the algae blooms, using up all the oxygen in the water. The fish and other aquatic life die from lack of oxygen, and finally the algae itself dies. It is the decomposing algae that creates the bad smell. These episodes of rotten odors can reoccur several times after the original spill, as residual sewage is washed into the lagoon by rains or high tides.

Since these sewage spills have become so common, I have given up walking along the lagoon on warm summer evenings. You never can tell what the mosquito that bites you might be carrying. I rarely even open my front door anymore. And when I do, I go armed with a can of Raid to zap any mosquito that might wander in.

We have had cases of encephalitis in the area. Makes you wonder what other diseases might be spread by such bad sanitary conditions. With 60 sewage spills in seven years, we certainly qualify as having bad sanitation.

You would probably have to go to some dirt-poor village in Central America to find worse conditions. On the other hand, you probably would not find it there, as they wouldn’t have a quarter of a million people in the area to dump excrement into their water.

After the last spill in March, the lagoon looks dead. I drive past it every morning and evening going to and from work. The thousands of birds that used to flock there are gone.

The vegetation looks brown and dead. Mats of scum float on the surface. The shore along the channel is covered up to the high-water line with millions of bits of rubbish--small plastic and rubber parts from the industrial plants in Sorrento Valley, rusted-out cans of chemicals and disposable butane lighters, used hypodermic needles with residuals of drugs still in them, bits of plastic foam and cardboard packaging material, and many other items it would not be polite to mention here.

The city has closed the channel to the ocean and probably won’t reopen it to flush the lagoon, because that would require closing the beach this summer. Maybe this is the end of Los Penasquitos Lagoon. I don’t know.

But if it is, we have lost something unique in San Diego that can never be replaced--and the City of San Diego has lost one more crutch propping up its claim to be “America’s Finest City.”