I'm not sure that she believed it so much as wanted to believe it, especially seeing how nothing very transcedent seemed to be going on in Ely, as even the Mormons seem to have become just another form of normalcy. Eventually the power came back on, and I went to bed. Not quite so much like the high-desert driving I was expecting. From Ely, this means Route 93. I still sigh over, it was 20 degrees in my tent, and my water jug froze solid.
Roads remain icy, with sheer dropoffs.
Of course I didn't have tire chains. Well, it was pretty bad for about 25 miles, then either the sun evaporated the ice or it wasn't so bad south of Ely. The only notable thing on Route 93 to my recollection is a small restored mining town, just a little pull off, but with stone buildings, and cool tiny houses. Can't recall the name, and it ain't on my maps. Nice place to have lunch.