“Today seems to be particularly monotonous, and the wild magnificence of the precipitous cliffs that limit us to the circumscribed confines of Cape Wild loom through the mist like prison walls, sinister and inaccessible. If there were only some duties, useful or otherwise, to be performed, the burden of time would be more pleasant and at present our sole exercise is to promenade up and down the 80 yards of the spit, or climb to the lookout and scan the misty skyline for a mast. We look forward anxiously to the forthcoming month, when relief is anticipated. One grows weary of continually estimating the days from the ‘Caird’s’ departure to the hoped for arrival of the [relief ship].”

— Frank Hurley