Flip-flopping Around the World

Mourning the loss of my trusted travel companion

In 2016, I was left stranded as my trusted travel companion ditched me for better waters. To this day, I still mourn the loss. We’d had such a good run, and so many memories. I refer to the one trusted piece of travel gear that had comforted me for more than 20,000 miles — my flip-flops. Or specifically, the left flip-flop, who decided traveling on solo was its best option. Traitorous shoe, I still miss you. We shared so much. I thought we’d be together forever.

Our Meeting

Everybody has a love affair with their favorite shoe. Comfy, trustworthy, makes you feel great when you’re out with them. As a (mostly) native Californian, that pair of shoes is usually a pair of flip-flops.

Whether you call them flip-flops, jandals, or thongs, they’re basically the same. I like calling them flip-flops. Not only is this a fun thing to call them — the word rolls off your tongue — but it’s also an onomatopoeia, the actual sound they make as you walk along your chosen path.

With hundreds of brands and types on the market, I continuously swiped left, searching high and low for my beloved footwear, until I found the Teva Mush. They aren’t the flashiest, most sexy of the flip-flops. But they were instantly comfortable and that comfort lasted for miles. We were a perfect match. My foot wore a groove into them, wrapped in cushiony mushy material. We bonded. This relationship was meant to be.

Well-Traveled Flops

In 2015, together with my trusted flip-flops, our travels began. First east from Ventura, California to Miami, Florida with my tent trailer to celebrate Christmas with a friend. Then we brought in the new year with a trip to Grand Cayman Island. We flew back to the US, touring from Miami, to Ohio, and back again to California. With each step, and every mile, my flip-flops were my faithful travel companions.

I took them on a trip up to Portland, Oregon for a fun weekend with my cousins. We spent some time in Utah with my kids. When I got back to California, I decided to take my sailing to a new level. I wore them to Barcelona, Spain, where I started a RYA YachtMaster Offshore course, traveling with them down to Gibraltar, and then up to Palamos, Spain where I finished up with my Certificate. From there we traveled to Southampton, England, up to London, and then back to California. They never gave me any indication they were unhappy traveling with me. And they were the one constant in every place I visited.

My faithful companions. Oh, the sites we saw together.

In November, we flew from California to Virginia, where we boarded a 60-foot vessel, heading south along the ICW (Intracoastal Waterway) — a water path along the Eastern Seaboard that runs inland from the Atlantic Ocean. I was starting a new adventure called Global HitchHiking, or sailing by crewing, around the world. My flip-flops were in for the adventure, or so I thought.

The Departed

About 600 miles into our journey, we had just anchored for the night in a stretch of the ICW that had a strong current. We double-checked to make sure the anchor was set and had settled in for the evening. While walking along the deck of the boat, checking to make sure everything was secure, my foot caught on something, I stumbled, and my left flip-flop made a break for freedom.

It flew off my foot and landed in the water, five-feet below. The current made quick work of things and it started merrily floating alongside the boat. I grabbed the boat hook, thinking I could snag it before it drifted beyond my reach, but I was unable to get to it in time. My flip-flop was gone, gone for good.

If you’ve ever read, “Where the Red Fern Grows,” it felt a little like that moment when Old Dan dies defending Billy from the mountain lion. Little Ann ends up losing the will to live and dies from grief later on. Oh the loss!

Commiseration

As I sat there and looked at my right flip-flop laying on the deck of the boat, I realized over the past year we had flip-flopped together for over 23,000 miles. We had a good run, but now it was over. I guess my lefty felt it needed to make a go of it alone. I thought about throwing my right flip-flop into the water so it would have a companion on its journey, but at the speed of the current, it would not have caught up. Besides, accidentally losing your flip-flop in the water is one thing, tossing the other in would only contribute, intentionally, to the ocean pollution situation.

So, if you are anywhere in the world and you see a lone flip-flop floating by, I hope you think about how far that flip-flop has traveled to float by you. It may have traveled for a long way!

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