In 2005, I was traveling by train from Moscow to Beijing. As Bert and I crossed over the imaginary line between Europe and Asia, I made the decision to drink a cold beer on all seven continents. I may have already had a few beers at that time, but the decision was made. It took a little longer than I had anticipated, but I suppose good things do come to those who wait. Along the way, I’ve had some incredible adventures, from getting booted out of Russia on that same trip to recently medevac’ing a very distinguished visitor from the South Pole. Wouldn’t change a thing.
So, here it is. A cold beer on continent number seven, in South Africa. Pretty stoked about it.