On April 25, the day after I left for South Georgia, the island was beset by heavy pack-ice, with snow and a wet mist.  Next day was calmer, but on the 27th, to quote one of the diaries, they experienced “the most wretched weather conceivable.  Raining all night and day, and blowing hard.  Wet to the skin.”  The following day brought heavy fog and sleet, and a continuance of the blizzard.  April ended with a terrific windstorm which nearly destroyed the hut.  The one remaining tent had to be dismantled, the pole taken down, and the inhabitants had to lie flat all night under the icy canvas.  This lasted well into May, and a typical May day is described as follows:  “A day of terrific winds, threatening to dislodge our shelter.  The wind is a succession of hurricane gusts that sweep down the glacier immediately south-south-west of us.  Each gust heralds its approach by a low rumbling which increases to a thunderous roar.  Snow, stones, and gravel are flying about, and any gear left unweighted by very heavy stones is carried away to sea.”

Heavy bales of sennegrass, and boxes of cooking-gear, were lifted bodily in the air and carried away out of sight.  Once the wind carried off the floor-cloth of a tent which six men were holding on to and shaking the snow off.  These gusts often came with alarming suddenness; and without any warning.  Hussey was outside in the blizzard digging up the day’s meat, which had frozen to the ground, when a gust caught him and drove him down the spit towards the sea.  Fortunately, when he reached the softer sand and shingle below high-water mark, he managed to stick his pick into the ground and hold on with both hands till the squall had passed.

On one or two rare occasions they had fine, calm, clear days.  The glow of the dying sun on the mountains and glaciers filled even the most materialistic of them with wonder and admiration.  These days were sometimes succeeded by calm, clear nights, when, but for the cold, they would have stayed out on the sandy beach all night.

About the middle of May a terrific blizzard sprang up, blowing from sixty to ninety miles an hour, and Wild entertained grave fears for their hut.  One curious feature noted in this blizzard was the fact that huge ice-sheets as big as window-panes, and about a quarter of an inch thick, were being hurled about by the wind, making it as dangerous to walk about outside as if one were in an avalanche of splintered glass.  Still, these winds from the south and south-west, though invariably accompanied by snow and low temperatures, were welcome in that they drove the pack-ice away from the immediate vicinity of the island, and so gave rise on each occasion to hopes of relief.  North-east winds, on the other hand, by filling the bays with ice and bringing thick misty weather, made it impossible to hope for any ship to approach them.

Towards the end of May a period of dead calm set in, with ice closely packed all round the island.  This gave place to north-east winds and mist, and at the beginning of June came another south-west blizzard, with cold driving snow.  “The blizzard increased to terrific gusts during the night, causing us much anxiety for the safety of our hut.  There was little sleep, all being apprehensive of the canvas roof ripping off, and the boats being blown out to sea.”