Woke up around 2 o'clock, and all was dark. Woke again a little after four, and the moon was up. All was bright, half the stars were gone, and I could hear grouse strutting.

All is well with the world. I went back to sleep. And awoke for real about a quarter after five. Chugged the rest of my Lizard Blizzard and then refilled half the bottle (without getting out of the sleeping bag).

A quick count found at least 49 cocks strutting in the dawn.

Started the engine to get the frost off the windows (23^o), and then got brave enough to put on the cold shirt, warm jeans (they were my pillow... leatherman makes impressions in your face... remember that next year) and cold boots.

Now the count was up to 63 cocks and at least 30 hens. Most hens were already leaving, and we did the same.

As I headed towards the next lek, I glanced at the gas guage.

Less than three-eighths of a tank.

This is not good. We're at least 60 miles from any gas station that might be open. And most of those are dirt miles.

My mind does the calculations on miles driven, gas consumed, and estimated miles left in the tank. And the numbers are always marginal.

So the rest of the morning, it is slow and steady. No fast driving. No fast acceleration, and slowing for corners. Stretching every gallon.

You know, all those fuel economy things they teach you to do in driving classes, which you promptly ignore whenever gas is less than $1.50/gallon.

And no side trips to any other leks. Just the ones along the route home.

Made it. With three gallons to spare.