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At YMCA Camp Surf in Imperial Beach last week, a group of middle schoolers spent their morning skateboarding, scaling a climbing tower and practicing archery.

Then at noon, campers boarded a bus for a 40-minute drive up the coast to Mission Beach, where they jumped in the waves for the camp’s namesake activity: surfing.

Founded in 1969, Camp Surf has catered to generations of South San Diego kids, introducing them to water sports and outdoor activities. With its seaside location and surf hut motif, it’s the picture of Southern California beach life.

But for the past few years waterfront access has been limited by persistent sewage pollution from Tijuana, forcing the camp to find a workaround.

“Instead of being able to go into the ocean right there at Camp Surf, now we have to run buses to other beaches,” said Jamie Cosson, executive director of overnight camps for YMCA of San Diego. “And people’s relationship with the camp has been hurt by that.”

Cross-border sewage pollution has plagued Imperial Beach, Coronado and other parts of South San Diego for decades, and worsened in recent years. As Tijuana’s population grew and wastewater plants on both sides of the border failed, hundreds of millions of gallons of raw sewage poured into the ocean. That has sickened swimmers and surfers, and led to near continual beach restrictions for the past three years.

Imperial Beach residents describe waking up to headaches, asthma and rashes after exposure to the water, or airborne pollutants from the Tijuana River. Schools invoke “rainy day schedules” when pollution levels spike. Struggling to breathe, sleep and swim, many residents of the largely working class, majority Latino community think their environmental burdens are overlooked.

Layers of foam caused by sewage and chemicals bubble up along a section of the Tijuana River after a rainy day in San Diego on Nov. 21, 2025. Photo by Adriana Heldiz, CalMatters

The contamination has also eroded traditions and hindered outdoor activity, leaving a generation of beach dwellers wary of the water.

“Without having that access to a free, fun activity, the community isn’t as connected as it was when I was a kid,” said Taylor Case, 18, a recent graduate of Mar Vista High School in Imperial Beach.

When the Coast Is Closed for Surfing

At the entrance to Camp Surf is an amphitheater, where kids and staff gather for songs, skits and campfires. Behind it, cottages painted sage, teal and tan are topped with palm thatch and fishnet. In its wood-beamed dining hall, a wall of windows opens onto the empty beachfront.

In the past, the shoreline would have been filled with campers surfing, boogie boarding and building sand castles, program director Payton Schoonmaker said. On weekends, church groups, Girl Scouts and families used to set up camp.

“Before this, you would have seen pretty much a tent city, with 300 people camping on the beach,” he said. “But now, a lot of our business has gone away.”

Last week campers followed their counselor for a quick hike along the shore: “They’re going to do a beach walk, and then a little trash pickup as well.”

This summer the facility will serve about 700 overnight campers from third to twelfth grade. That’s down from 1,200 in the past, Cosson said. About 400 day campers between first and seventh grade will also attend.

With an all-day schedule of outdoor activity, it’s a respite from screens and social media feeds. No electronics are allowed; kids check their cellphones at the gate.

“I think camps hold this incredibly important niche in society now, in being unplugged, in nature, building real relationships away from electronics,” Cosson said.

For part of the day, campers play soccer, do arts and crafts, practice climbing a 35-foot tower, ride the ramps at the skate park, and line up for target practice at the archery range.

As two girls argued whether an arrow struck the bullseye or the yellow ring around it last week, one boy couldn’t resist teasing them: “Girls, it’s a bad shot.”

“In their first round they might not even hit the target at all,” Schoonmaker said. “By the last round they’re hitting all five arrows on the target, so just within the hour, they’re seeing that growth.”

That surge in confidence and independence is the heart of the camp experience, he said. “It’s all about making friends, trying new things, feeling a sense of belonging.”

First: Campers walk along the shore in Imperial Beach. Last: A camper draws a bow during an archery activity at YMCA Camp Surf in Imperial Beach on July 2, 2026. Photos by Adriana Heldiz, CalMatters

A camper plays with a rock while they wait to store away their equipment after a skateboard and scooter activity at YMCA Camp Surf in Imperial Beach on July 2, 2026. Photo by Adriana Heldiz, CalMatters

It’s also about surfing. Since 2023, the camp’s beaches have been off limits for most of the summer, so campers have to travel to surf and swim.

If water conditions permit, they go to neighboring Coronado, a 15-minute bus ride to the north. Recently that city has also faced beach water closures, so campers make the trek farther north.

At noon last week they boarded a bus, ate turkey sandwiches on the lawn at South Mission Beach and then paddled out en masse. Some kids toppled off their boards as soon as they popped up, while others quickly got the hang of it and even tried tricks. One boy jumped up and flipped around 180 degrees on his board as he surfed toward shore.

“We’ve made it work,” Cosson said. “We still have lots and lots of kids out there, it’s just a challenge for us.”

Training Junior Lifeguards

The effects of beach closures ripple out beyond that program, creating gaps in outdoor education, physical activity, recreation and water safety for kids throughout South San Diego.

“We have kids growing up in a community where they can’t go in the water, and it’s really tragic, because that’s where they learn water safety and swimming,” Cosson said.

Like Camp Surf, the junior lifeguard program at Imperial Beach has been in make-do mode since the pandemic.

The program shut down during COVID-19 closures, then reopened to a different health hazard: sewage pollution.

“I don’t think we’ve had one day of the beach being open,” said Jason Lindquist, head lifeguard for Imperial Beach. “We go remote. We bus everybody out of here. We can’t use the beach for anything. It’s been a challenge.”

They’ve adapted by chartering a school bus to drive junior lifeguards up the coast. At first, they bused kids to neighboring Silver Strands Beach, just a few minutes north. But when that beach faced frequent water quality closures, they had to switch gears.

A camper from YMCA Camp Surf rides a wave at Mission Beach in San Diego on July 2, 2026. Photo by Adriana Heldiz, CalMatters

Imperial Beach lifeguards piece together a schedule for the three-week program with visits to virtually every other beachfront city in San Diego County, in coordination with neighboring lifeguard departments.

“All the other lifeguard agencies said you’re welcome to come here any time,” Lindquist said. “We’ve been all over the county. Our junior lifeguards probably get the most well-rounded view of the coastline.”

Some kids are discouraged by the long bus rides, he said, but many participants and their parents like the variety. Demand for the program typically exceeds capacity, and the limits of busing and staffing means they can’t accommodate as many junior lifeguards as they would like to.

That makes it challenging to prepare Imperial Beach youth to safely enjoy the water, and to train some of them to become professional lifeguards themselves.

“Imperial Beach’s identity has always been rooted in our coastline, and our Imperial Beach Junior Lifeguard program plays a vital role in preparing local youth to become capable ocean life-savers, good citizens, and community leaders,” Imperial Beach Mayor Mitch McKay said in a statement to CalMatters. “The importance of the program cannot be overstated, many current and past city lifeguards actually graduated from our Junior Lifeguard ranks and have become extremely capable full-time, loyal city employees.”

We Don’t Have that Beach Anymore

Families and community leaders in Imperial Beach have given a lot of thought to what it means to live in a place where much of the outdoors is off limits from pollution.

In the city of 25,000 residents, 53% are Latino and the median household income is $86,000, about $20,000 less than the San Diego County average, and at least $50,000 less than neighboring coastal cities. It’s one of the few places in the region where working class families can afford to live near the beach. But they can’t use it.

“I’m always wondering what message that sends to youth and families, to have the nearest beach closed and the air is hard to breathe,” said Tiffany Curry, public policy coordinator for the San Diego program Outdoor Outreach.

The organization offers surfing lessons and outdoor education for South San Diego kids. Just not in their hometown. Like Camp Surf, they bus kids to other beaches, sometimes as far north as Oceanside, 50 miles away.

“Whenever we serve youth impacted by pollution we have to take them out of their communities,” Curry said.

A warning sign about sewage and chemical contamination is posted along the shore of Imperial Beach on Nov. 21, 2025. Photo by Adriana Heldiz, CalMatters

Sergio Gonzalez, 16, recently went on a field trip to SeaWorld with the organization for his marine biology class at Mar Vista High. Other times his class visits the beach to test water quality in Imperial Beach.

“When I walk on the beach, I see dead animals and birds,” Gonzalez said. “It really concerns me. I wish I could do something about it.”

San Diego County has tested beach water quality daily, and in 2022 introduced DNA-based testing that yields results in hours, rather than days. It issues warnings or advisories when bacterial levels or other contaminants exceed state standards, and enforces closures when a known sewage or chemical spill contaminates the water. Since 2023, much of the Imperial Beach shoreline has been almost continually closed, or posted for unhealthy water quality.

Some improvements are in the works. The U.S. and Mexico have set aside a combined $800 million to fix failing sewage treatment plants, and both countries upgraded their facilities last year. Local officials are seeking $25 million to fix a site called the Saturn Boulevard Hot Spot, which is the source of much of the airborne pollution. This year Imperial Beach will build a splash pad by its pier, to offer aquatic activity near the coast, McKay said.

For some young people in the community, those solutions seem a long way off. Taylor Case has heard their mother and other Imperial Beach natives describe summer nights around bonfires at the beach, and hoped to experience that before heading to college in the fall.

“They talk about how much fun they had with their friends and families, and how tight-knit the community was, and I just don’t see that now,” said Case, who hasn’t gone in the ocean near home since 2017. “And I know for sure that is because of the pollution, because we don’t have that beach anymore.”

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

The post Sewage Pollution Is Keeping Kids Out of the Water in This California Beach Town appeared first on Voice of San Diego .