Follow the flip flops

Long Beach, we hear, is stunning.

Secluded, beautiful, white sand, blue water, and the beach goes on forever. We also hear that puppies frolic on the sand. Needless to say, we want to go.

Long Beach is on the other side of the island and to find it, you either pay for the boring (scenic) boat trip around the island, or you hoof it right down the center. The center, however, is a small mountain overgrown with Cambodian jungle and there are no roads or vehicles here. When the man behind the bar tells me to “follow the flipflops”, I have no idea what he means.

The choice is obvious: through the jungle.

We set off, moving noisily to scare away snakes, with no directions other than a villager’s wrinkled finger pointing up a faint dirt track and vague instructions to “follow the flipflops”. And then we see it. Stuck to a tree, a rusty nail crudely hammered through the rubber, is a child’s tattered slipper, faded and slowly hardening under the blazing Southeast Asian sun. Further on, we spot another flipflop nailed to a tree, and then another. I get it now; “Follow the flipflops”. And so we do. Trees climb past us, their limbs extending skyward as we grab onto their branches and struggle up the hill.

Soon, the path drops off a steep slope. Partially hidden in the shadows below -- a yellow slipper. We begin our descent but this quickly becomes difficult. There is a shout from above and a hail of soil as someone slips and almost falls on my head. In the commotion I don’t realize that something has emerged from the bush and is watching me with beady eyes.

I almost fall too when I see the wild dog. My first thought is that there is nowhere to run. My second thought, as the dog gives me a meaningful look, is that our newcomer looks friendly. We find a rope tied to a tree and take turns to rappel down the rock face. Satisfied, the dog turns and moves downhill. We follow obediently.

Ben is the name I mentally give our new friend, and Ben turns out to be a great guide. He picks out solid footholds, and waits patiently if we are slow. Finally, with one last look over his shoulder, Ben runs off happily. I run after him and my toes dig into sand. As our eyes adjust to the light, we see sunshine reflecting off a bright blue sea. A long corridor of white sand extends sideways into the distance until the island curves and the beach disappears around the bend. Ben reappears with puppies.

If you plan to visit Long Beach, I recommend the hike. Just follow the flipflops.