I'm staring at my watch. It's midnight. Across the table, my buddy Pete sits, looking slightly glazed with a girl to his left and a grin. I'm 10 minutes out of an 11-hour shift, and there's someone trying to shove a beer past my lips.

I'm not usually one to refuse. But we've got 160 miles of road in front of us and a morning date with one of the best biking and climbing playgrounds in all Wyoming: Vedauwoo.

We're just a couple of guys who met in college and love a good road trip. Always leaving in the middle of night, we make the most of our time off. Even if it's brief. School, work, girlfriends. Whatever it is that keeps us from reverting back to complete Neanderthal mentality flies out the window when we hit the road. It's man time: competing wherever we can, talking about the girls we haven't the remotest chance with, telling lies about how good we used to be at baseball and trying to build up a funk to be proud of.

Morning … sort of

The tent walls are glowing, and my sleeping bag has now become a pillow. My throat hurts from the energy drinks and cigarettes it took to get me here. (Yes, I know, cigarettes are bad.) It's about 10 in the morning and most of the other campers have been up for hours. I open the door to let the heat out of the tent and staring back at me is my favorite pile of rocks in Wyoming. If you've never seen the rock structures at Vedauwoo, it looks like God played Jenga with all the largest boulders he could find. Pull one out and the whole thing will crumble. One can't help but want to climb these sleeping rock giants.

After a breakfast of instant oatmeal, my eyes are still a little fuzzy and my joints ache more than those of a 28-year-old should. When Pete suggests we put our bikes to use, I'm already dreading the workout. But a good bike ride usually seems to work out the kinks. So we get going.

Vedauwoo has all the terrain you could want to ride on a mountain bike - pavement throughout the campground, hiking trails with plenty of ups and downs and narrow corridors, and rock piles made for hopping. Soon we're on a trail which I'm not sure is intended for biking. But the tire tracks of previous idiots who attempted it are reassuring. And more than that, they seem to scream at me, "BAKAW! Waddrya, chicken, boy?"

Up. Down. Swoop. Crawl to a standstill. Fly down a hill. Bump, bump, bump across some exposed tree roots.

Good investment those padded bike shorts. My future children will thank me, I'm sure.

"Hey, Pete. Wanna keep going?"

"Yeah. Let's see what's up here," he says back.

Darn. I gotta give up those cigarettes.

"Yeah. I think we need to keep going, too."

We make our way through a near-perfect aspen grove with spires of white and all those brownish-black eyes staring back. The trees get so close together I begin to worry my handle-bar ends are going to catch an aspen and wrap me around it.

We're going farther back than I've been on previous trips. The trail opens up into a seemingly endless expanse of rolling field dotted with those same sleeping rock giants that surround the campsite and a spider web of trails all around them.

Huff. Puff. Weeze. We're climbing at a good pace. The view would be spectacular, if I weren't beginning to black out.

"Hey, Pete. We need to stop up here. I need to snap a few shots for this article."

Good excuse, Wes.

"You get a good shot yet?" he says to me.

"Dude, seriously. It takes awhile to get the lighting right. Don't rush me."

We get back to camp at what seems like a few hours later. It's about 1:30. The parts of my legs not covered with chain grease are sporting some nice new scrapes. I'm feeling pretty good about my workout. All that's left now is an afternoon of laziness and good grubbin'.

"Hey, Wes," Pete says looking at the rock pile that defeated us last year. "Wanna do some climbing."

I really hate this guy.

"Dude, I'm just waiting on you," I say.

Movin' on up

I've been pretty sure for a while that Pete may have a little mountain goat in him. That's fine. It's the family ahead of me with the grade-school-aged girl hopping around rock to rock that's beginning to get to me.

Soon we pass that family, though, and I feel like I'm getting my legs back. It's none too soon, either, because the rocks are straight up. Plus I know what's coming. It's the point that stopped me and three of my best friends last summer: an eight-foot long rock slab that leans in toward a drop-off that, frankly, makes my knees rattle. Pete made it up last year, but the rest of us actually packed our brains and decided to use them.

We begin looking for an alternate route, but with no success.

Looks like it's the route of death for us.

And then, suddenly, an answer to my prayers: "Y'know what, Wes. This is probably not such a good idea. I'm not sure how I made it up last year. That was pretty stupid."

"Well if you're not feeling up to it …"

And so we improvise

Back at camp, we realize we may have forgotten a few essentials: beer, smokes and poker chips.

What we do have is a sketch pad and some markers.

While we begin making our own chips - complete with funny faces that have us laughing like school girls - we have a sign on the back of my Jeep that reads, "We need smokes, booze and women." Pure genius, I know.

We get plenty of laughs and spend the rest of the night playing some Vedauwoo-style Texas hold 'em, with our newly made chips representing singles, pine cones for five spots and larger rocks for twenties.

We cook up some grub, and not long after the sun dips behind the pines, we call it a night.

A quick stop before heading home

We wake up with a good bike ride. My wheezing isn't as bad today. And no blackouts. My legs feel pretty strong. We even scope out some good camp spots for next time, which are out of the pay zone. I even pass Pete on a couple of hills.

Soon, we're heading out of Vedauwoo and toward Medicine Bow to shell out our last few bucks on a really fattening lunch.

As I chomp down on my burger at The Virginian, I don't feel as defeated. So what if we didn't make it to the top of the rock pile this time. Other chances will come. And frankly, I'm glad that little challenge is still sitting out there. Even all that exercise is about to be canceled out by this double bacon cheeseburger, fries and plate of chicken wings.

But, I can't wait to hit the road again soon and see how little we can accomplish on the next go 'round.

Note to self: Pick up some Nicorette when we get home.

A dinner fit for a biker (in easy-to-follow guy directions)

This is a great meal before a workout. The carbs are gonna give you a boost of energy, and the protein will help with muscle recovery. And there's none of that greenery your wife insists you have in your diet.

Ingredients:

Some noodles, preferably penne pasta (We're guys. We don't measure)

Chicken breast chunks (Two or three breasts)

Italian sausage, spicy (The more, the merrier, but one package will do)

One jar of Paul Newman's Sockarooni pasta sauce

Preparation:

If you're doing this dish for camping, save yourself some trouble, and do some prep work at home. Besides, you're not going to want to be cookin' and swattin' skeeters at the same time.

Cook noodles and drain well. Put in gallon-sized, plastic Zip-lock bag.

Chop chicken breast and cook in skillet until done. Put cooked chicken in plastic bag.

Do the same with the sausage.

Place all ingredients in your cooler with some ice. (Under the beer, in case bags break)

Now you don't have to bring several pots on your camping trip.

Cooking:

In a fire-safe cooking pot dump all the precooked material and the pasta sauce. Add about a half-cup to a cup of water depending on how much food you've got. This is going to keep the fire from burning your noodles and help mesh all your ingredients. Once you've gotten it all to a good simmer and some of the water is beginning to steam out, give it a taste. If it's still room temperature, put it back on. If it burns your tongue, let it sit, you moron. It's not rocket science.

Variations:

Throw in some whole black olives or some cooked mushrooms if you're feeling froggy.

The tally:

Gas: $54.87

329.3 miles round trip in a 1997 Jeep Cherokee Sport

Food: $32.43

Oatmeal breakfast, and ingredients for dinner (and a few energy drinks for the drive)

Camp Fee: $20

Two nights in the campground (Campground spots include fire rings, picnic tables and access to bathroom facilities. If you don't need all this, there are plenty of free spots away from camp.)

Stop at the Virginian: $23.00

Two double cheeseburger plates, plate of chicken wings, plus tip (This stop isn't necessary, but highly recommended.)