I've lost my wedding ring everywhere, but the adventures were unforgettable

Dan Slater’s marriage is going strong. Sadly, the same can’t be said for his ring. 

I recently found myself in the Kangaroo River, floating next to a capsized kayak, with no one else in sight.

How I got here isn’t important, but it meant I had to reach both my arms over the upturned hull and pull the far edge towards me in order to right my craft.

As I pulled, I felt an unusual sensation move along my ring finger, followed by a sudden feeling of emptiness. Not again!

2010: COMMUNITY MARKETS, BRISBANE

I come across a handsome ring, made of tungsten carbide with a pattern of alternating wedge cuts. It’s masculine, understated, metal-hued, and only $99. Apart from the fact that tungsten is impossibly hard to cut through, and if my finger swelled up badly for any reason I’d probably lose it, it’s just the job.

2011: MAURITIUS

The ring finds a comfy home on my finger during our beach wedding ceremony at Flic en Flac. Gerda has a lovely triple band designed by an old schoolmate-turned-jeweller, but for the ceremony the page boy pulls out a ridiculous substitute ring. It’s about an inch tall and looks like it was won in a cracker. It does the trick, making everyone laugh and ruining the solemnity of the occasion. That’s my girl!

Dan Slater and wife Gerda on their wedding day in Mauritius.

2012: MOUNT STROMLO, ACT

After a day of hectic mountain biking, during which I had a particularly extravagant stack, I notice a distinct nakedness of the left hand. I’ve been married less than 12 months. “Not a problem,” I think. I’ll look up Fierce Tungsten and order a replacement. Easily done, but somehow the ring has doubled in price. I write an email describing the sad circumstances around my loss and they agree to replace the ring at the original price. Legends.

2012: VANUATU

Being far cleverer than me, my wife has confiscated my new ring, substituting a cheap silver band for this two-week holiday. Her caution is fully justified when, diving the spectacular wreck of the SS President Coolidge, my “ring-in” floats free of my cold, shrunken digit and down to the seabed some 60m below.

Diving the SS President Coolidge in Vanuatu.

2014: M31 MARULAN HEAVY VEHICLE STATION, NSW

On an overnight bike ride from Bundanoon to Bungonia, I flick my left arm out to stretch my elbow, and whiz… off flies my ring into the grass verge. I screech to a halt on the hard shoulder beside the weigh station, throw down my bike and rush back to search frantically. After a couple of worrisome minutes, I locate it. Phew!

2015: SAMOA

Two weeks of country-hopping the South Pacific culminates in one last activity before heading to the airport. Papase’ea Sliding Rocks consists of a series of smooth rock chutes dropping riders several metres gently into small pools, at speed. Predictably, on my first ride, that by-now familiar empty-finger feeling happens. D’oh! Landing in the waist-deep water, I immediately focus on the pebbles beneath my feet. Fortunately, the water is crystal clear and metal glints in the refracted sunlight. Another lucky escape.

Dan Slater (centre) about to go kayaking.

2025: KANGAROO RIVER, NSW

I break the news to my wife by pretending I’d almost drowned, which softens the blow of the ring’s loss. It had a pretty good run, but sadly, when I search online for Fierce Tungsten this time, the company no longer exists.

Then again, after 14 years of marriage, does it really need replacing? I clearly won’t ever remember to remove it before adventuring, so the sensible answer is “no”. Now that’s a conversation with my wife I’m not looking forward to.

Originally published as I've lost my wedding ring everywhere, but the adventures were unforgettable