Wyoming Wonderland

By this time next week, we'll be in Santa Fe. But only after touring some areas north. One of those places is Wyoming. We aren't going there to search, really, although we might poke around for fossils. There are just some places that I really want to see since I started the chase several years ago.

This trip, because of the two-faced, Janus-like, Time, which can either be precious or an evil taskmaster, we will be concentrating on the southern portion of Wyoming. But I want to see as many of my spots as we can possibly drive to.

One spot is near Rock Springs. I want to walk a little portion of the Emigrant Trail and see Ephraim Brown's grave, near the spot he was killed because of a squabble his wife got into with another man's wife. Not much is said about this "home of Brown" online, but over the years, I've found a couple different stories, some more detailed than others. For those of you searching Wyoming, an excellent resource is the website, Wyoming Tales and Trails. 

I've read much of the website, both while researching possible chase sites and for my own enjoyment and curiosity. For example, Forrest mentions that Mike Kammerer died with his spurs on. In the Western sense, to die with your boots on was to die a true cowboy. There are others said to have died with their boots on, but there is specifically one other person I've read about who was found in a canyon somewhere in south Wyoming who was found dead with his spurs on, and no horse, dead or alive, in sight. I wish I could find that story again, because it was in a really interesting area. If anyone knows about it, please contact me. I don't think the treasure is there, but it's one of those spots I'd like to see.

I also want to see the resting place of Mary, wife of Charles Washington. Forrest tells a very brief story in TFTW about visiting  her grave somewhere in the Wyoming desert. Through some really good research and some pinpoint BOTG, a searcher has located that grave and given me the coordinates. I just want to see it for myself, because it tells the story, however brief, of someone important to someone else. I want to see the environment she lived in, and experience even just a glimmer of what her life, so different than mine, might have been like.

I hope we get a chance to at least see a few of those places, but road trips, especially with time limits, have a way of going much different than you envision them. We try not to be rigid with our plans, because whimsy is like a powerful magnet. We go where it pulls us. :)

I want to make it to Vedauwoo, although I'm not sure we'll make it that far east on this trip. We are in the early planning stages of taking Callie and Joe (maybe Aidan if she can get the time off) to Wyoming later this summer. For that trip, I want to experience Yellowstone and the Buffalo Bill Museum. I want to stand at the base of that statue of Buffalo Bill and reminisce on all the things I know about the legend. I've had the pleasure of reading a sampling of his correspondence back and forth to various individuals, and the guy was simply amazing. Very human, with a likeable mix of humility and confidence, as well as a gift for storytelling, and what seems to be a very kind-heart.

Anyway, I'm super excited about this trip, although I found out I have a torn meniscus yesterday in my right knee. My boss did a quick exam at the end of the work day to see why there's a painful buildup of fluid in it. He did an ultrasound, found a tear, and gave me a cortisone shot, which was immediate relief, and a brace to take on our trip. However, ast night was rough, because the shot already wore off and I slept very little. It's bothersome, but it won't stop me. Harvester ants, though, are another  matter. :)

But I'll have to get that knee fixed sometime in the future...bleh.

Anyway, I'm gearing up and excited about this trip and seeing many of you at Fennboree!

STOP Moments in Life

This weekend was extremely nice. Joe and I drove down to James's, and while there, I had a few "STOP" moments.  I'm going to re-create my thoughts at the time into words...I may fall woefully short, because raw emotion tends to fall outside the realm of my vocabulary.

Saturday night, we played board games and Texas Hold 'Em. I ran out of money first because no matter how often I got three queens, Joe or James would have three kings or Aces.

Then we converted the pool table to a ping pong table, where I ruled. We used to have a ping pong table in Illinois, and we played all the time, so I'm a little bit good, but no Forrest Gump.

After that, Joe found a BBC series in 4k called The Hunt, so we watched a few episodes.

From the moment the first animal appeared on camera, I was in complete, slack-jawed awe. Wildlife photography has virtually exploded in quality since Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom!

I am now sure animals share human's nobler qualities, but their brains fire different synapses, and as a result, we fail to recognize the majesty, loyalty and nobility they live every day.

Surviving in the wild is not easy.  Animals in the wild may seem as though they have survived by happenstance, or by the evolutionist motto, "only the strongest survive." That may not be always true, as it also takes a whole lot of determination, cleverness, and sometimes, parental influence.

Humans tell the story of how they've survived difficulty through words, scars, or the wrinkles that come with enduring to old age.

But now, through progression of technology and the magic of the camera, we are seeing the wonderfully complex and seemingly divinely-led, lives animals lead. This technology has brought us out of the zoo, where you were extremely lucky if a lion got up from its nap for a quick scratch before retreating further into the shade.

Now we can see the fascinating and savage intricacy of survival. And the lengths animals will go to to survive. ALL animals. When faced with adverse circumstances, they absolutely will not give up, no matter what the odds, and no matter how tired they are, They will keep pushing until they succeed, or until they die.

For example, we watched from above as a mother humpback whale and her newborn baby were swimming toward a place where they could feed. Then, with a burst of ominous music, the camera darts behind to focus on a small pod of Orcas, trucking through the water like highly focused, determined, and smugly confident missiles.

You can almost read their thoughts-- "Prepare for a feast, boys! This'll be a cinch!" Then something amazing happens. The baby gravitates toward the middle of his mother's back, instinctively going to the safest spot. Or maybe the mother told him to ride on top. I don't know what wonderful language humpback whales are capable of. But it was cool, and the view from overhead of the baby coasting on its mom's back while the Orcas closed in all around was just...awe-inspiring.

Orcas hunt in packs, and they're extremely efficient and proficient predators. They tried to wash the baby off the mother's back by creating a coordinated sequence of splashing. It worked, and the Orcas looked like they were gonna feast on the baby.

All hope seemed lost. The killer whales closed in on the baby with a speed that made my heart race. I wanted the baby to survive. But it didn't look good. In fact, it looked like the Orcas were putting on their bibs.

Then, triumphant music, and David Attenborough says, "Just then, an adult male comes to the rescue." And I think James and Joe cheered with me. All I could think was, “That whale is amazing—a good Samaritan, coming from nowhere to help another of its kind in need.” We think of animals as instinctively selfish, with no true free will, only deep rooted instinct that forces them to act out their primal urges.

But this was clearly no selfish act. It was selfless, dangerous, and noble. That male humpback didn’t have to jump into the fray. Did he hear the mother’s cries of distress? Could he feel or sense the baby’s terror? And most importantly, after hearing the distress call, did he feel an emotion that prompted him to act?

Could it have just been a fluke? A rare animal hero? 

Nope. Because then another humpback male joins in to flank the momma and baby. I couldn't believe it. These male whales came in to help, by their own free will, and at risk to their own lives. As humans, we hear of people sacrificing their lives for our country, or our loved ones. Sometimes we hear stories about pets who have saved lives, but we don't often hear about these heroes in the untamed wild.

STOP.

All I could say was “Wow,” and then of course, I had to voice what I was thinking so Joe and James didn't miss what those whales had just done.

“Those whales just willingly put themselves in danger for that momma and baby. They chose to help that momma and baby escape.”

The males succeeded in shooing the Orcas away, and when they thought the danger was past, the male humpbacks left the female and baby to go back to whatever they were doing. Swimming, probably. 

Which was a mistake, something we humans are very familiar with.

The killer whales didn’t swim far away—just far enough to wait for another opportunity. When the male humpbacks left, they returned with a vengeance, and easily succeeded in separating the baby from it’s mother. They pushed the baby deep underwater, drowning it.

A stunned silence filled the room, the noise deafening in our own hearts. We thought this story would have a happy ending.

But that’s reality, and the show did a really good job portraying that often gut-wrenching truth--even after a heroic deed, there’s the chance of failure. And the ending is really neither happy, nor unhappy, but survival.

The next day we went Best Buy and James bought a 4K Blu-ray player, and the 4k version of Planet Earth II.

We watched two episodes: “Islands” and Mountains.”

It was no less amazing than the episodes of The Hunt we’d watched the day before.

Watching never seen before footage of animals doing their thing gave me a few more STOP moments.

Like the herd of musk oxen that form a ring around their young and face outward toward a hungry pack of arctic wolves. It reminded me of the stagecoach rings on the plains in more hostile times.

And then there was the Guillemots that lay their eggs on steep cliff ledges, and once a year, there’s a mass exodus of chicks taking their very first flight, and it’s a doozy. Their first flight starts with a leap of faith off a high cliff, and they’ve got to glide all the way to the relative safety of the sea, almost 1000 feet away.

But what’s more amazing to me, is that the chick’s dad jumps into flight immediately after the baby, and guides him//her by gentle nudges and encouraging squawks until they reach the sea. Many chicks make it to the sea, if somewhat ungracefully. Probably how I'd land with a couple of head over heels bounces.

Some don’t, and predators are waiting for the chance to grab an easy meal. But even if the chick crash lands, the dad is there with it, and is sometimes able to fend off a fox or larger raptor.  However, the fox has babies to feed also, and to ensure a viable balance, their needs must be met, too.

But it’s amazing to realize that those chicks never take their first flight alone.

I can’t even begin to describe the emotions I feel when seeing these things for the first time.

I found myself wishing I was the cameraman. Or wishing I was doing the field research that had to be done beforehand so the cameramen would know where to go. It’s a white-hot, burning desire, a desire etched deep inn my soul, yet is unattainable at present due to circumstance. So, the answer I need to find is how to change my circumstances to fulfill this lifelong desire.

I know it can be done. I know there’s a way. It’s there, and I just have to find it. I have the will, and I’ll find the way. My enemy is, and will always be, forgetting that heart-rooted desire in the daily monotony of life.

Anyway, this raw, sometimes savage, wild world will always have a mysterious and profoundly inspiring affect on me. It's a feeling beyond words, a feeling that I can only express with wide, wonder-filled eyes, or a smile--the smile you smile when you see something so amazing, so beautiful, so naturally intricate and inspirational, that your most primal first instinct allows nothing less.

And that's why I call my blog My Ever Wonderland.

A quick note

The ONLY comments made by me in the comments of his blog have  my picture next to them. I have NEVER been an "anonymous" commenter.

I have purposely distanced myself from all the blogs except from Jenny's. I have not been to, have not seen, have not read, or have not commented about anyone else's blog since I said I was done posting however long ago that was. About a month now, I think.

I am not singling out or personally atttacking any one person or any specific blog when I mention haters. I realize with a certain amount of fame , the haters, in general, will come out of the woodwork.

So, the assumption that I am commenting anonymously on my own blog is false.

That's all I'm going to say about it. When I said I am done with the other blogs, I meant it. However, I still read chasechat and I feel the need to respond to a comment that said I bash other blogs "daily." That's not true.

Curiouser and Curiouser

From the text of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll:

"...we can see that tea-time is 6 o'clock. However, because the Hatter has upset Time, who is described as though it were a living person, it's ALWAYS 6 o'clock, and therefore always tea-time. 'And ever since that,' the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, 'he [Time] won't do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now.'"

Well, yesterday was certainly curious.

Again, thank you to those of you who wrote me kind words on CC and privately--it means a lot to me.

I'll try and post more ideas here on my blog or my Hot Spot blog--because I have many ideas recently...curious, fantastic, and amazing (and maybe crazy) ideas you won't want to miss. ;)

Okay, so let's talk about those wacky Viking Norns. Stick with me to the very end-- I promise this relates very closely to the chase!

From the Poetic Edda:

There stands an ash called Yggdrasil,
A mighty tree showered in white hail.
From there come the dews that fall in the valleys.
It stands evergreen above Urd’s Well.

From there come maidens, very wise,
Three from the lake that stands beneath the pole.
One is called Urd, another Verdandi,
Skuld the third; they carve into the tree
The lives and destinies of children.

The Norns were the three divine female beings of destiny. They lived quite happily in The Well of Urd (Urd/Destiny), carving the destinies of newborn children (and all things, for that matter) into the trunk of Yggdrasil.

Those three wise ladies had some awkward sounding names. The first was Urd, the deity that represented "what once was." Then there was Verdandi ("what is coming into being"), and Skuld ("what shall be").

I'm glad they didn't have to go to school, where all the Thors and Thoras and Svens and Haralds would push them down. However if Verdandi really looked like this artist's depiction of Verandi, I don't think her name would have mattered much:

That picture was interesting. It appears that tiny Pokemon things fly around Yggdrasil.

This is where you'll want to perk up your ears and listen.

The ancient Germanic peoples thought of time differently than we do. The Norns did not represent past, present, and future in a linear concept of time, but represented past, present, and necessity in a cyclical concept of time. Think of "ever drawing nigh" for a second...

The ancient Germanic language, like the English we use today, has no true future tense. The Well of Urd and Yggdrasil correspond to just two tenses: the past tense, which indicates something has happened and isn't still happening (or something has happened in the past and is still happening now) and the present tense, which indicates something is happening in the here and now.

Past tense: Thor destroyed the city of hate.
                  Thor has been listening to the whispers with casual interest.

Present tense: Thor is laughing at the puny humans right now.

To indicate something happening in time akin to, but not exactly, the future, we use verbs like "will be." Say, for example, "Your effort will be worth the cold."

Verbs like "will" and "shall" express a concept that's not exactly the future, but more like "intent," or "necessity." I call it "future-ish."

So, The Well of Urd represents that which has past and/or is currently still happening, and Yggdrasil represents that which is actively happening in the present.

The water of the magical well is very telling of how the Norse viewed time--as a cyclical, and possibly variable, continuum. The water springs up from the well to nourish Yggdrasil in life giving dew from the roots to the leaves. Then the dew slips from the leaves back into the well, completing the cycle and beginning again, ever and ever onward.

The Norse believed the present returns to the past, and from there, the past can reshape the present. They didn't believe in an unalterable fate, and yet they also didn't believe in absolute free will. Instead, the branches of their existence intertwined and melded somewhere between the two extremes.

So, how do the Norns fit into this complex cycle of time? Well, although the Norns carve every single thing's destiny into Yggdrasil's wood, the water which flows up from the well into the tree, represents a fluidity that gives every thing the power to alter, even just by a split-second pause in the flow, that destiny.  The dew that falls from the leaves influences the past, which in turn influences the future.

The Norns carved destinies with magic runes. This is the "elder futhark."

I think of the Norseman's view of time and destiny as the hours, minutes, and seconds etched into the face of a clock by the Norns, and the Norns have wound this clock, setting each hand (living thing) on it's destiny.

However, depending on how actively you participate in shaping your destiny, you have the ability to nudge those hands a little, altering the flow, or maybe just touching one of the hands so it pauses in it's track, thereby influencing the past as the hands slide by that etched number on its successive cycle, which influences the present by coming around just slightly different than the time before.

Does that make sense? It's a complex idea to grasp, especially since our modern view of time is very linear.

The analogy of the well being the past, the tree being the present, and the water that flows between them being a fluid dynamic with the ability to influence both is a pretty good way to imagine it, too.

So, the Norns represented destiny in an endless cycle of watering, growth, and potential change.

Now, here we are at the moment I promised at the beginning of this post. Looking at Forrest's poem, we can sense the magic cycle of the Norse concept of time.

First, we are in the point of view of some unknown enitity, who has gone alone somewhere. This places us squarely in the past. Then, in the very same sentence, this unknown entity or a different unknown entity "can keep" and "hint" in the present. The "melding" of past and present in this stanza is in-your-face curious, at the very least. 

The entire second stanza is present tense. Like a recipe, we begin something, and put something in. But unlike a recipe, in between the beginning and the putting in, we must take something out.

The first part of the third stanza is past tense--it has happened and is still happening--"it's no place for the meek, the end is ever drawing nigh;"

That curious semi-colon doesn't seem quite so mysterious now, does it? You can hopefully now see it signifies a shift in time--where the next line represents what the Norns helped the Norse to comprehend--that future-ish concept of necessity in time, the "will be."

"There'll be no paddle..."

The beginning of the fourth stanza shifts backward again, to the past. "If you've been wise and found the blaze,"

And again, the comma signifies a pause in the fluidity of time, and another shift is made to the present-- "Look quickly down,"

"Your quest to cease," indicates future-ish necessity, and "but tarry scant...take the chest and go..." shifts us again into the here and now present.

Feel like you're on a roller coaster, or in a time machine? Or the cray-cray clock from The Twilight Zone or Alice in Wonderland? Well, the ride's not over.

"So why is it..." -- the present... 

"that I must go and leave... for all to seek?" -- Future necessity...

"I already know..." -- the present...

"I've done it..." -- the past...

"now I'm weak." -- the present...

"hear me all and listen..." -- the present...

"effort will be..." -- the future-ish necessity...

"you are brave and in..." -- the present... or could possibly be future-ish necessity.

"I give you title..." -- the present. (Notice he doesn't say, "I will," or "I'll," which is the future-ish necessity, but purposely keeps it in the unmistakable present.)

So, after seeing the way Forrest has presented the poem, does it change the order of things? Yes, you must follow the clues consecutively, in order, but couldn't that mean in their order of time? The past, the present, the future-ish necessity. Remember, it's not messing with the poem to follow the clues in their proper order. Forrest has recently said no one has given him the clues "in order." Maybe because they weren't following Forrest's concept of time...

And speaking of time, I got up way too early to put these thoughts together, and probably didn't do a very good job of it. Now, it's time for me to get moving and by the time you've read this, I will be on my way to work. And tonight, Joe and I must be at James's.

See what I attempted there? :)







 
We have an end that is "ever drawing nigh," but never actually becoming the future. If the end is "ever drawing nigh," the future doesn't really exist, does it?

And if our effort "will be" worth the cold, that's not really the future, either, is it? It's the present with the verbs "will be" giving it a similarity to futurity, but is more like necessity. It "will be."

And then, at the end of the poem, we are standing fast in the present, because we "are" brave and in the wood.

Internal Wiring

Happy "Thorsday," y'all!

First, I'd like to take a minute to address a comment left by "Anonymous" yesterday. I didn't forget to mention that Greenland was actually green 400,000 - 800,000 years ago. In context, I was talking about the Viking Age, and why Erik the Red called it the "Green Land." Like many other large islands, it did have some green patches along the coastline, but overall, as I said yesterday, the island was inhospitable. Erik had to convince the people they would like it there, so they could trade with the Inuits.

It's not what the island is, but what they think it is, right? Nothing like convincing your kinsmen to move away from pristine pastures to rocks and ice solely for the sake of wealth.

What I want to talk about today is the hard wiring in our brains. Have you ever wondered why you like the things you like? Why you choose certain heroes or heroines to admire? Why you prefer certain genres of music or novels?

When I was in my early twenties, way before I knew my ancestry, I came upon a couple of fantasy novels in a used book store. They were by a raggedy, pirate-y wanderer, William Morris, and one I read was The Well at World's End. I loved that book, with it's lyrical kind of prose and romantic elements. It's a tale of four brothers (one of them is named Blaise), and recounts their journeys. This novel mostly tells Ralph's story and is magical and romantic, and full of adventure. I think I read it in one night. 

Well, yesterday, I was reading a book about Vikings I'd picked up at the bookstore a couple weeks ago, and I found out that William Morris loved all things Viking and modeled his stories of high fantasy after Nordic sagas and poetry. I also remembered the Vikings believed the Yggdrasil Tree grew out of the Well of Urd. Urd, in Old English, was wyrd (weird), which meant "destiny." So it could be called, "The Well of Destiny."

Here is an artist's depiction of the well, with the three Norns around it. I'll tell their story tomorrow.

The Yggdrasil (pronnounced ig-druh-sill) Tree was sometimes called the World Tree, and it was an ageless ash, with branches and roots all over the place. The tree housed the nine worlds the Norse believed in. Old Norse could be a complex language, and Yggdrasil in Old Norse was Askr Yggdrasils, which literally meant "The Ash Tree of the Horse of the Terrible One." The Terrible One (ygg) was Odin, who supposedly rode his horse, Sleipner, up and down and across its branches as he traveled between worlds.

Anyway, I thought it was interesting that the novels of William Morris made such an impact on me, long before I knew of my ancestry. And what's even more thought provoking is that there's a book called The Well at World's End; Folk Tales of Scotland, retold by a husband and wife that may very well be related to me: Norah and William Montgomerie. I had no idea this book or these people existed until yesterday, and I'm curious if either one is still alive. If so, I'm definitely going to try to find them!

I just looked up William Montgomerie, and he does resemble some family members!

I just found the answer to my question if they are still alive:

       William Montgomerie died in Edinburgh in 1994, and Norah in 1998. 
       In his Scotsman obituary of Montgomerie, John Pick summed up his subject thus: 

He was a treasure house of information and a master of sharp perception. He shared light, not darkness, and his scholarship was meticulous.

So, I guess what I'm wondering is, are we hard-wired somehow to have a natural leaning toward our ancient homeland? Is there some ancestral instinct inside us that draws us toward our past? I'm not sure how many people are curious about their roots and where they came from, but I am.

I also remember when, in my early twenties, I went to England as part of a Christian band. We had the chance to explore York, which was a Viking city, but I didn't know that until we toured the Jorvik Viking Center, now a World Heritage Site. I got goosebumps as I walked through. I recalled that my maternal grandfather's family was from York. So, it appears that the Viking roots may go back through both my father and mother's side.

One very vivid memory from that trip is getting angry when a couple band members playfully laid down in an empty stone sarcophagus.  I  thought they were disrespecting the dead that had once "slept" there. They replied with a very logical seeming, "They aren't here anymore."

So was something deep and primal inside of me screaming, "You are home!"?  I don't know, but the romantic in me says "yep."

I would love to go and see my "home" one day.

Misconceptions about Vikings

I've noticed in some recent comments here and there that some people have some fanciful, but maybe slightly inaccurate perceptions of the "Vikings" and where they came from.

Myth Number 1: The Vikings came from Iceland.

The more accurate answer: Well, they certainly didn't originate in Minnesota, and they certainly didn't come from Iceland.

They were a conglomerate of Germanic tribes that had migrated northward into present day Denmark, then Sweden, Finland, and Norway and neighboring isles. One of the foremost chroniclers of the Vikings was Adam of Bremen (11th century), who described one of Denmark's islands, Sjaelland (Zealand) as:

       "famous for the valour of it's people and the richness of it's produce."

Some believe the Vikings gave Iceland it's name to fool other explorers into thinking it was inhospitable, and the name Greenland to lure them to that much icier place, instead. However, more reliable sources indicate that Iceland was given it's name by an explorer named Floki, after his first harsh winter there in 860 AD.

And Vikings weren't the first foreigners to colonize Iceland. When they arrived, they found, probably to their consternation, the Irish had beat them there. 

Greenland, however, was named as a ruse. Erik the Red sailed there from Iceland, and although the land was harsh and inhospitable, it would be a great place to establish trade with the native Innuit. He returned to Iceland and told others of the wonderful "Green Land," in order to lure people there to establish a colony.

Myth Number 2: The Vikings were dirty.

The more accurate answer: Actually, out of all the people living in that area of the world, the "Vikings" and the people associated with them were the cleanest. They took great pride in their appearance. Archeologists have discovered a whole lot of their combs, tweezers, razors and other hygiene items. The people of ancient Scandinavia detested the common plague found literally everywhere and on every foreigner they encountered--lice--and that Nordic blonde hair often wasn't natural. The Norse dyed their hair because it killed and prevented lice.

They also took frequent baths in hot springs, often more than once a week, which was much more frequent than their stinky European counterparts.

Myth Number 3: The Vikings were cruel barbarians.

The more accurate answer: The Vikings have a reputation for being the most feared raiders of their age. They supposedly killed without mercy, plundered everything, and left destruction in their wake.  While it is true the Vikings were often feared, it is also true they were also welcomed--as traders. Their trading expeditions were just as important, if not more so, than their raiding expeditions.

However, because of their reputations as raiders, the countries that traded with them did so only with tight enforcement of "no violence" rules.

Myth Number 4: The Vikings wore horned helmets.

The more accurate answer: Come on, you guys should already know by all the recent interest about Vikings in popular media. The horned helmet was actually conceived by an opera costume designer.

Vikings were efficient fighters, and helmets with ungainly horns not only added extra weight, but could easily get caught or snagged on tree branches, people's limbs, or in any number of odd places.

Not one horned Viking helmet has ever been found, and I'm pretty sure none will ever be.

Myth Number 5: The Vikings were untrained and haphazard fighters.

The more accurate answer: The Vikings were some of the most cohesive, strategic fighters of their time. They conceived battle plans so clever and so varied, their enemies couldn't predict when, where, or how they'd strike. Their methods of surprise, deceit, and psychological tactics likely caused much of the fear associated with them.

However, their style of fighting was rudimentary. They had no standing "army," and their cohesiveness was the bonds of loyalty to friends, family, and their lords. The importance of honor among their culture was unmatched at the time. This made their fighting style difficult to defeat.

Children were taught to fight as soon as they could hold a spear, and some participated in their first battle at the age of twelve. Spears were the predominant weapon, but they excelled in close, hand to hand combat . Their shields were round, about three feet across, and very effective when forming a "shield wall" against a barrage of enemy arrows. The Vikings television series actually portrays this fairly accurately.

Well, there are a few of the myths associated with the Vikings. There are many more, and I'll talk about them in future posts. Obviously, that period of history is extremely interesting to me, and there's so much I want to share, but these kinds of blog posts take a chunk of time to write, and time is something in short supply lately. For now, these pre-workday, early morning posts will have to do.

Happy Wednesday!

Norse Code

Yesterday's question and answer on Jenny's blog was interesting, and seems to indicate that all nine clues of Forrest Fenn's poem can be answered from home. You can find the question by
"Lagerta the Bold" here.

The name "Lagerta" is familiar to me, as it's a variation of a familial name that I've studied years before The History Channel's Vikings picked it up as one of it's shows main characters.

The date of my first ancestry article about Ragnar and wives was written in an old blog of mine on Thursday, May 10, 2012.  I wonder if the writers of Vikings stole my idea. I had an interest in Lathgertha and Ragnar (and the rest on Fennland Isle) before the masses even knew who they were. Before the series came out, there was very little information about them online, and my blog was one of the few compilations of an American's Norse bloodline.

I researched my ancestry all the way back to the possibly mythical or legendary figures. There's a point in everyone's genealogy where things get a little fantastic, and Ragnar is the last "probably historical" person in my line. Pre-Ragnar, things get a little sketchy. 

In my original blog post from 2012, I wrote the following:

Yesterday, I did some more research. The furthest I can definitively trace back to is probably Ragnar, the scoundrel asshole. After that, the people become semi-legendary, meaning they haven't been proven to be real people. Ragnar's father was supposedly Sigurd "The Ring", who is a semi-legendary King of Sweden. A little further down the line is another semi-legendary king, Skjold, who was mentioned in Beowulf. There is some historical proof he may have been real, too. 

Then, we have Skjold's dad, Woden, or Odin. Yes, the god.  However, there apparently was such a Woden, and there is actually more proof for his existence than there is of Sigurd or Skjold. Woden was an excellent poet; in fact, the master of all poets, and highly esteemed and the Chief of his tribe or clan, or whatever. He was revered as a god. Anglo-Saxon kings say they can trace their lines back to this man. Darn, if I had known that, I could have proven my lineage and got an invitation to Princess Diana's wedding!

But, from Odin, the genealogy goes to Troy and can be traced all the way up to the supposed founder of Troy, Dardanus. From Dardanus, Priam comes into the picture. He's supposedly in my line. Priam had a daughter, Troana, who married Munon (or Memnon). And guess what? Munon and Troana had a son, and guess what his name was? Yes, you're right! His name was Thor! Or Tror, which is translated Thor. 

Anyway, back to Lagerta. Why the missing h or two? Maybe the author of the quote didn't want the name to sound "biddy-ish," like Helga or Bertha. Lol. Or maybe it was just another case of Forrest's shortening of names to save time.

Okay, back to Vikings. Contrary to popular belief, the ancient Scandinavians were not all vikings. The term "viking" described those who went a'viking, their term for boat voyages and raiding missions. The Vikings were expert sailors, navigating the world and setting foot on America long before Christopher Columbus or pals ever did. 

But Lagertha was actually a Viking. She journeyed with Ragnar on many raiding trips and there are tales of her carving her name in the sea pre-Ragnar, as a pirate. There are also tales that she was a shield-maiden or Valkyrie. Viking shield-maidens are most likely based on historical truth, as they are simply warriors that happen to be female. There have been graves of woman Viking warriors buried with their weapons unearthed, and there are several tales of women fighting alongside of the men.

Here's an ancient account of Latgerta (as Ladgerda, one of the many variations of her name):

 Ladgerda, a skilled Amazon who, though a maiden, had the courage of a man, and fought in front among the bravest with her hair loose over her shoulders. All-marvelled at her matchless deeds, for her locks flying down her back betrayed that she was a woman.

This painting by Peter Nicolai shows a fallen shield maiden:

And, of course, the modern equivalent:

 Valkyries are probably just myth, though, and were likened to goddesses of war. They would ride their flying horses into a battle and choose those among the slain who died with bravery and honor, then take them to an eternal feast with Odin in Valhalla. In Valhalla, these warriors are known as einherjar, which is an Old Norse word that means "single fighters" or "once a fighter."

The Ride of the Valkyries, by John Charles Dollman

Forrest has mentioned Thor once or twice, but Thor is, at the time of this blog post, a mythological figure. As time moves forward and more is discovered in the ruins of Troy, where the historical Thor might have lived, a different story may emerge. One interesting fact about Thor is that prior to the Viking Age, the name "Thor" was unheard of. During the Viking Age and beyond, the name flourished. Thor was the new "Hunter" or "Dylan."

Another interesting fact is that before Thursday was Thursday, it was dies lovis, meaning "Day of Jupiter."

Thor was the god of thunder, lightning, oak trees, strength, storms, the protection of mankind, and also hallowing and fertility.

Unlike Lagertha, stories abound of Thor's adventures. He was known by at least fourteen names, and I don't know them all yet. Thor was purported to be a son of Odin, and he rides, somewhat humbly, I think, in a chariot pulled by goats. This isn't how I like to picture the god of thunder and might scooting around town--I mean, how could his enemies not laugh at his approach?

Unless it was more like this:

Oops, dang it, that's not Thor, that's Santa Claus. I meant this:

Yeah, that's more like it! Lol.

In the Poetic Edda, a compilation of traditional tales from the Viking Period, Thor is a popular character. In one such poem, Thor is returning from "the East" and arrives at an inlet, where he finds a ferryman (Odin in disguise). Oh, Odin is a tricky guy, playing little jokes on the heroes with tests and tribulations! He shouts obscenities at Thor and refuses to let him on the ferry.

Thor, trying his best to not let mere obnoxious words hurt him, stays silent and waits for the ferryman to finish. The ferryman just gets louder and more aggressively crude, and Thor "goes atomic." But not with his fists. Instead, he enters into a war of words, what they called "flyting." Which is basically an exchange of insults in poetry. Maybe like today's rap battles. Lol.

Here's a depiction of the flyt:

Well, Thor apparently lost the flyt, and ended up walking that long walk home. Maybe Odin won because he said something like, "You may have killed a dragon, but your chariot is pulled by goats!"

I mean, how can you come back from that one? Oh Thor, why'd you have to pick goats? There are some pretty awesome wolves in the old tales, like Fenrir of the marshes, who swallowed the sun, or Managarmr, the wolf who swallowed the moon--couldn't your mightiness have harnessed them instead of a couple cud-chewing, grazing mammals?

And time grows short once again as the morning wanes. Time to put my scrubs on and get ready to be ordinary.

Have a great day!