If you’ve ever spent a day fishing the flats with me, you’ve probably heard me talk about a “closed loop system.” It’s a system I lean on for consistency, and I credit a lot of my success in fishing and in life to practicing it until it becomes second nature. I first learned this idea through archery, and it carried over perfectly into fly fishing.

There’s no single right way - building your own closed loop is part of the process. Here is an example of how I like to do it on the flats:

• Strip off the same number of pulls from your reel every time you step to the bow. For me, it’s twenty-six.
• Make a test cast, adjusting by adding or subtracting line as needed.
• Strip the line back in, stacking it neatly behind the bulkhead.
• If possible, stay clear of the casting brace to free up your range of motion.
• Set your feet in a way that keeps your clock bearings consistent.
• Hang just enough line out of the rod tip to start a cast - pinched between your finger and the cork.  In order to keep more line from slipping out. I use my middle finger.
• Loop the leader in half and hold it with another finger. I use my index finger.
• Finally, keep the fly in your off-hand, holding it gently by the bend of the hook.

Now comes the cast: fish at eleven o’clock, fifteen meters. Here’s where the loop closes:

• Spot the fish.
• Drop the leader from your finger while still holding the fly.
• Sweep into a roll cast motion, letting the line and leader pull the fly out of your hand.
• As the backcast begins, grab the line with your stripping hand and deliver the shot.

When you repeat this sequence enough, it becomes automatic — a closed loop. That way, when your heart rate spikes because the fish of your life shows up, there’s less room for error.

But what happens when you’re forced out of that comfort zone?

Recently, I fished in a tarpon tournament in Florida where each angler was paired with a guide by random draw. At 8 AM, I was standing on an elevated platform that straddled the bow and cockpit. My line was stacked in a bucket on the deck. The guide was running the trolling motor from the tip of the bow — right in front of me.

The first shot came quickly: a rolling tarpon at two o’clock. I started into my backcast, expecting the guide to duck, but instead he barked, “No! Cast through the boat!” My brain scrambled, my pulse spiked. He ducked anyway, and I somehow got the shot off  - but I missed the eat, and I was rattled.

I told myself, Relax, Travis. Slow down. Figure out a new system.

It took a couple more failed attempts before I realized what needed to happen: Communicate. Ask questions. Build a new system that works for both of us. I talked with the guide, we made a plan, and soon after, we got another shot. This time, we closed the loop. We landed the fish, put points on the board, and the whole day turned around.

And that’s the bigger point: closed loops aren’t just for the bow of a skiff. They show up everywhere.

Packing for a big trip? That’s a closed loop system. Lay everything out, check it off, put it in the bag the same way every time, and when you get home, reset it so it’s ready for the next adventure. That way, the next trip doesn’t start with stress; it starts with confidence.

Travel days, hunting camps, even the rhythm of your daily routine - the more closed loops you build, the more natural they become. And when stress or chaos inevitably hits, those systems hold you steady.

In the end, a closed loop isn’t just about fishing. It’s about creating rhythms you can trust and adapting them when the situation demands it.