We are in Cape Town, South Africa, our bikes parked behind us. Bathed in the pink glow of the evening sun, our bodies weary and worn, we have ridden 24,000 miles through 11 African countries. We walk over the sand down to the water's edge, where the cool green waves of the Atlantic lap against our bare feet. A moment to savor - feels so good to have the boots off. It has taken us nearly eight months of demanding riding to traverse Africa's west coast, and we are sporting our cuts, bruises and scars like badges of honor, commemorating each hard-fought mile.

A washed-out track that winds through green banana plantations to the Ugandan border has led us here. And once inside the post on the Kenyan side, it's obvious we've committed the serious offense of disturbing a well-fed immigration officer during his power nap. Call out the guards!