Chasing the Elusive Burbot in the Dark of Winter
There's a certain kind of angler who willingly trades sleep, warmth, and convenience for the chance to tangle with a fish most folks have never seen, let alone pursued on purpose. If you ask me why I have spent so many nights sleeping on the lake, hunched over a glowing hole, waiting on a creature that looks sketched from a memory of someone who had once seen an eel. I will say this, burbot fishing isn't a pastime – it's a pilgrimage.
Most species reward you with a mid-day sun or an early morning bite window. Burbot prefer the dark. Truly, the dark. The kind that settles over the lake like a wool blanket, thick and muting everything else around you, except for your breath. That's when they slip across the lakebed, hunting and haunting the edges of structure, and that's when you need to be present and on top of them.
Preparing for burbot means dialing in gear that feels more expedition than recreational. I've come to rely typically on a Medium-Heavy rod with enough backbone to wrestle a surprised, twisting fish from 30-80ft. But enough sensitivity to detect that soft, hesitant pickup burbot are notorious for. A quality reel with a dependable drag is key; these fish, at times, will take runs and have vicious head thrashes, while spinning and twisting in a ball. Pair your reel up with a braided line and a fluorocarbon leader for minimal stretch during deep water hooksets.
The tackle box for burbot is its own mystical museum of creature baits. The uglier the bait, the better! I've noticed over the years, fishing these bottom dwellers, that GLOW is better. Everything should GLOW that you fish. From Spoons, Rattle Traps, Blade Baits, Jigs, Tubes, Curly Tail Grubs, whatever it may be, it had better be GLOW! I've spent more time charging baits with a UV light than I care to admit. But in the dark below the ice, that soft halo of light is key to helping these fish to find your offering. It can be the difference between a passing glance and a decisive strike.
The technique is nothing graceful, just constant jigging. With burbot, it's almost like putting in a day’s work. You drop your jig or spoon and bang it on the bottom several times, lifting it to pause. Keep repeating that cadence over and over, disturbing the bottom. They use the noise and vibration to home in on your offering, giving them the illusion of something rummaging in the territory. When they do bite, it's subtle -- just a faint pressure, followed by a heaviness on your line. When that burbot takes hold of your lure, you realize patience has been your best asset.
I've been known to set up spreads of Tip Ups when I find where they are hanging out, waiting for the burbot to come to me, take a dead stick, or cut bait below the tip-up. I do prefer to stay mobile and hunt them, jigging one or two holes aggressively. If I set up camp for the night, I will drill a constellation of holes around my shack in various depths, fishing those holes throughout the night, till I find them.
Burbot are a special species, and anglers should be selective on harvest, especially depending on the body of water. What makes burbot special isn't their fight and rarity, or even their nocturnal mysteries. It's the commitment they demand. They ask you to be patient, to be uncomfortable, to embrace the cold and quiet and the uncertainty. They ask you to show up when most people are heading home. And when they finally arrive, slithering out of the dark to take your lure, it feels earned in a way few catches do.
Get out there, enjoy the peace and quiet of the dark, as it's like nothing else. The Elusive Burbot is elusive for a reason, and it takes those mystic midnight hours to pull them up from their depths. OH, did I mention that they are really good eating?
Reel In The Memories!
