Miles on the clock: 39,585
Stateless pigmies lived in the handful of scruffy villages lining the 20-miles of no mans land between Congo and Cameroon. I was muddy and shirtless when I rounded a corner and unexpectedly arrived at the makeshift hut housing the immigration office. It looked like a makeshift slum house but an immaculately dressed guard stepped out and started shouting at me. His furious French was to the tune of: How dare you arrive here in such an indecent state. What if there had been women here. Go away and put a shirt on.
I wheeled my bike back around the corner to dress. While doing so I spotted two village women emerge from the bushes with water containers. They wandered off down the track; topless like me.