That’s my friends’ best medical diagnosis of the spare nose I’ve grown on my shoulder. On Saturday, under clear skies and with temperatures in the mid 70’s, I should be doing a bit of this.

That’s a trail in Morocco and it’s easily identifiable as “not this country” because water is not cascading down it, the bike doesn’t appear to be weighed down with a tonne of finest mud products, and the sky has something in it other than rain.

Aside from the insanely early flight, this trip has much going for it; great friends, dry trails, a support vehicle that will shuttle you up those difficult hills and a country I’ve never been too. Weighing against this is the shoulder of doubt and its’ worrying nobblyness. Having seen no improvement and less sleep for the last week or so, I see my options as:

1/ Demand an A&E X-Ray and some useful treatment.
2/ Do nothing and hope for the best
3/ Be sensible and don’t ride because the potential for fuck ups are legion.

Problem with 1/ is if they find something cracked or bust, it invalidates my riding insurance. Problem with 3/ is that it is extremely dull. So 2/ it is then with additional camera batteries and patience if riding becomes too difficult and I become “man, tanning on truck”

I’ve been looking forward to this trip through the dark and wet winter months. To say I’m irritated after taking ownership – yet again – of the mantle of mong would be a bit of an understatement.