It began with a balloon ride at daybreak over the ancient temples of Bagan, Myanmar. In November 2018, my friends Heather, Janelle, Nick and I floated above the misty plains with Balloons Over Bagan, celebrating afterwards with breakfast and complimentary blue caps, each adorned with golden embroidery of a stylized balloon.
That cap became my daily companion, a cherished reminder of extraordinary moments and friendships forged halfway across the world.
Years later, at Tasmania's Lake St Clair, fate had other plans. While walking with Jon to our accommodation at Pumphouse Point—a converted pumping station perched at the end of a 250-meter flume—a sudden gust snatched the cap from my head, sending it dancing across the waves of the Southern Hemisphere's deepest lake. I could only watch helplessly as my treasured memento disappeared into the darkness.
But the lake wasn't finished with my story. Two days later, as we prepared to check out under remarkably calmer skies, I made one final walk along the shore. There, wedged between rocks and frosted by the cold, sat my cap—a small miracle that had everyone smiling.
The Pumphouse and the rocky shore.
Wedged in the rocks
The joy was short-lived. Somewhere between a Gordon River cruise and a rainforest steam train journey, the twice-found cap vanished again. This time, no amount of searching or calls to tour operators could bring it back.
Back home in Adelaide, I reached out to Balloons over Bagan, hoping to simply purchase a replacement. What happened next reminded me why some losses lead to unexpected gifts. The company, touched by my story, didn't just send a replacement—they included two additional caps: a limited-edition white one celebrating their 20th anniversary and their latest red design.
My new “old” cap
The limited edition “2oth anniversary”
New “Red” cap
Now when I look at these three caps—each with their own story—I'm reminded that sometimes the universe has a peculiar way of multiplying what we lose, if only we keep our hearts open to new possibilities.
