I awake without an alarm clock, but instead to the sound of water at a rolling boil.

Feeling the slight warmth hanging in the room from the steam, I roll over, pulling the sleeping bag back up onto my shoulders to drift off for a few more minutes. Trying desperately to ignore the sounds coming from the adjacent room, which seems to be some sort of grumbling and the hint of waterproof maps unfolding, I faded in and out of sleep but eventually give in to the need to get up.

French-pressed coffee lingers through the room and the presence of a wind can be felt outside as it hammered on the walls of the little cabin. Walking out of the bunk area, I see him sitting there on the floor, mug full of coffee, maps spread out and both our bikes parked at the door, tire pressure checked and chains lubricated.

His quirky smile, disheveled hair, wide-eyed enthusiastic look filled me with warmth, making me happy and even somewhat concerned. I've seen this look before and it usually means he has a plan and, well,sometimes that plan can be painful.

We share coffee with bacon and eggs while gathering details on the weather. Forecasted temps won't be much higher than the low 30's with a wind speed of 15 to 20 mph, but he assures me the big forests will mostly shield us from the worst of it.

Of course, I would follow this man anywhere, so I shrug it off as he gives me my choices for our “make your own adventure” ride.

When you're planning a day on the bike where at times you'll be further than 25 miles from camp, your equipment choices and contingency plans are of greater importance. We divide the essential tools such as pumps, CO2, tubes & windshell jackets between our packs and then each of us stuff the extra pockets with energy food.

I take time prior to these adventures to make his favorite long-distance snack. It's a recipe using mashed potatoes, bacon, cheese and eggs that are cooked into patties like a burger and they travel well in foil and are packed with carbs and protein.

We depart camp before 10 a.m and the map is stuffed safely in the outer pocket of my pack, so it's easily accessible for him. My map-reading skills are still being honed, so I heavily rely on my human GPS.

We pedal silently on a gravel forestry road that winds up the mountain before descending into Penn Roosevelt State Park. Anticipation of the unknown makes my stomach unsettled, but also raises my heart rate with excitement. We reach the first trail head and the single track snow-covered rocks begin as we ascend to the top and ride Slate Ridge across and into the Coopers Gap Trail system.

The gray windy day makes for a lonely feeling as if we were the only two humans in this plot of wilderness, but my nerves have settled and I'm looking forward to miles that lay ahead.

We discover animal tracks in the snow that would otherwise go undetected, two sets of bear tracks along one section. My mind drifts off, thinking of the cuddly little black bear cubs frolicking across the blown over tree trunks while mother looks on, bam! I'm quickly reminded that I'm riding as my front wheel slams over another rock, which are plentiful on the single track here.

As the day continues, we trade-off between gravel roads and single track between Coopers Gap and Rothrock. Eventually rolling up to Little Flat Fire Tower where we stopped, the wind was blowing pretty fiercely and our equipment was succumbing to the snow and freezing temps.

The derailleur pulleys needed the ice scraped from them and this was a good spot to do so. As he cleared them of ice, I began refueling and this lady appeared from the woods. She had been hiking alone and asked if we needed any help.

Some trivial conversation was exchanged and she wished us luck as we continued on to complete the final sections of single track before hitting the forestry roads to camp.

We came back into camp late, my mind was hazy and my legs like jello. The last trek up and over the mountain on our return had clearly wiped out any energy I had been saving. At one point, I recall trying to open some energy chews and finding I didn't have the coordination to do so.

I walked for a ways until the sugars brought fire back to my muscles. I entered the cabin removing my boots and gloves while desperately wishing for feeling to return to those extremities. As I look over, there he stands, chocolate milk in hand and a fist full of chips with that quirky smile, disheveled hair, wide-eyed enthusiastic look … the exact one I was concerned about, 64 miles later and nothing had changed!

This was our anniversary weekend adventure for four happy years together; we rented a cabin and rode for two days to celebrate. No fancy dinner or expensive gifts, just the two of us, a simple machine and the Wilderness.

More of our adventures and healthy living tips can be seen at www.saelers.com.

Travis and Julie Saeler are cycling columnists for the Butler Eagle