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Before the trip, after great effort, I was sad to discover that rear-mounted paniers weren’t possible on my bike. I was skeptical, but settled for the alternative orientation at the fore. Now, however, my doubts are lifted. Front-mounted gear is the only way to go for would-be desert travelers.
It began in the worst of yesterday’s 135km journey. The Mongolian sun flaunted a cruel radiance, and the traitorous foul tail-wind that once bore us foreword now broke in our faces. The wasteland sprawled before me, cruel and hilly, with each mounted crest revealing no novel sights. Just pavement through boundless brown landscape. Abandoned by my brother, who decided he needed to show off some muscle, and too weak to meet his velocity, I was alone, thirsty and daunted. When my neck could no longer bear my heavy head, I let it fall. It was then I realized I was among a full company of heroes.

The first of them was my stem cap. This brave is flanked by two white Nalgene bottles prodigiously fastened by well-crafted holders. But through the convex looking-glass of his polished black surface the bottles were morphed: they appeared as grand Doric columns soaring up to support the reflection of my aching shoulders. Whose arms could give with such sturdy braces? I then looked to my right handle bar. There bound was the motherly and earnest eye of my bike lamp, who, normally faced forward to guide me in darker hours had tilted back her head to gaze upward at me in concern. Her lens seemed to me so expressive at the time. Then I looked to the ends of my handle bars and saw I gripped the horns of a Surly™ colossus, under whose treads no obstacle might impede me. But thanks to the front-mounted Surly Nice Rack™, the band wasn’t so small.

The rack faction is led by Sir Giro™, the Black Knight’s helm. He stands facing ever-forward, strapped around my sleeping bag. He’s a quixotic knight to be sure. Eyeless and mute, at the best of times his vigilant forward gaze yields no defense to me, and my sleeping bag has no need of his protection. When he’d be most useful, during dark nights, he merely obscures the rays of my sweet lady the bike lamp. So he’s not entirely sane, but entertain his views for a moment and you might be inspired. Look closely at his visor and you see a strip of plastic, fluttering in the wind. Surely a remnant of the plume adorning a storied knight’s helm! And while his name, emblazoned no less than four times on his surface in tacky silver font, may be ostentatious, his pride and blind idealism as he sits watchful on his sleepy charge gave me strength.

He had many companions. Two sets of twins. On the west, the food panier, behind whose glistening orange countenance rested the promise of a hot meal come nightfall. And who could forget, perched on his head, the translucent Nalgene bottle. This energetic friend shakes constantly, shifting waters bouncing around inside. It looked so excited to get to each new vista, like a puppy running around in a yard. To the east, in the shadow cast by our Glorious Sir Giro™, are the darker brothers. The empty 1 liter Nalgene, containing only clouds of condensation, reminded me that moving forward was my only hope for more water. And in the sunless eastern panier rested my pajamas. A pledge that soon the sun would set and I would finally have shade and rest.

Had I not carried these friends before me, I could never have come this far to relate to you my delirious ramblings. When you are biking in the Gobi, thirsty and distraught, let your front rack be there for you.