A Strange Stone in the Soil
On a warm September day in 1898, Olof Ohman, a Swedish immigrant farmer living in Kensington, Minnesota, was doing what he did most days—clearing trees to make his land more suitable for plowing. With his 10-year-old son Edward by his side, Olof swung his axe at the base of a shallow-rooted aspen tree when his blade struck something solid. Expecting perhaps a boulder, he and Edward dug deeper and unearthed a curious, flat slab of grayish stone.
What caught their attention immediately wasn’t the weight of the stone—though it was nearly 200 pounds—but the strange inscriptions carved across its face and along one side. Ohman, who could read some runes from his childhood in Sweden, realized this wasn’t just some discarded grave marker or building material. The markings looked ancient. Runes. Viking runes.
As news spread throughout the small town of Kensington, curiosity grew into excitement. Had Olof stumbled upon evidence that Vikings had been in Minnesota? The idea was thrilling—and controversial from the start.
Reading the Runes
The stone, later dubbed the Kensington Runestone, was taken to nearby towns for closer inspection. Scholars, teachers, and curious locals examined its inscription. Eventually, it was translated from its Old Swedish and runic characters into modern English.
The message, chiseled with remarkable precision, described a tragic expedition:
“Eight Götalanders and 22 Norwegians on a journey of exploration from Vinland westward. We had a camp by two skerries one day’s journey north from this stone. We were fishing one day. After we came home, found 10 men red with blood and dead. Ave Maria. Save us from evil.”
On the edge of the stone, another line read:
“We have 10 men by the sea to look after our ships, 14 days’ journey from this island. Year 1362.”
The mention of “Vinland”—a Norse name for part of North America explored by Leif Erikson around 1000 AD—was startling enough. But the date “1362” pushed the boundaries of what historians thought they knew. Could a party of Norsemen have traveled inland to what is now Minnesota, 130 years before Columbus even set sail?
This single stone threatened to rewrite the history of exploration—and not everyone was ready for that.
A Nation Starved for Vikings
At the time of the stone’s discovery, Scandinavian immigrants were rapidly settling across the American Midwest. Minnesota had become a second homeland for thousands of Swedes, Norwegians, and Finns. Many of them were eager to connect their ancestral history to the story of the New World.
The possibility that Viking explorers—Scandinavians—had reached the American interior was electrifying. If true, it would place their ancestors among the continent’s earliest European discoverers.
For the immigrant community, the Kensington Runestone became a source of pride. Newspapers ran sensational headlines. Celebrations were held. The stone toured exhibitions, even appearing at the 1907 Minnesota State Fair. There was talk of erecting monuments. For many, the stone’s authenticity wasn’t just academic—it was personal.
But while local enthusiasm soared, professional historians and linguists were starting to raise skeptical eyebrows.
The Hoax Theory: A Farmer’s Folly?
As excitement grew, so did scrutiny. Linguists began analyzing the inscription, comparing it with known examples of 14th-century Old Norse. Problems quickly emerged.
Some of the runes were unfamiliar—hybrids of older characters or outright modern inventions. The grammar didn’t quite fit the style of the 1300s, and the syntax had what scholars called “modernisms,” phrases more consistent with 19th-century Swedish than medieval Norse. The date was written in Arabic numerals—unusual for Norse carvings of that era.
Attention turned back to Olof Ohman. Critics suggested that as a Swedish immigrant and a woodcarver by trade, he may have had the skills—and the motive—to create a hoax. Perhaps he carved the stone as a prank, or maybe to give his heritage a boost in the new world. Some even speculated he had help from local schoolteachers with knowledge of runes.
Ohman strongly denied the accusations. He insisted he had never heard of the Kensington Runestone or Norse expeditions before the discovery. “Why would I bury it under a tree if I made it?” he asked. “Wouldn’t I have just put it in the field where someone could find it?” He turned down offers to sell the stone for large sums of money, further complicating the hoax narrative.
The Case for Authenticity
Despite the criticisms, many experts and independent researchers remained intrigued—and even convinced—of the stone’s authenticity.
In the 1960s, scholars noted that some of the unusual runes on the Kensington Runestone had in fact been used in rare medieval Swedish inscriptions that weren’t widely known—or published—until after the stone’s discovery. That would have made it nearly impossible for Ohman to copy them from a book.
Later, in the early 2000s, geologist Scott Wolter conducted a detailed petrographic analysis. He argued that the weathering on the runes suggested the stone had been buried for centuries, not just decades. The breakdown of mica crystals in the groove walls, Wolter claimed, was consistent with long-term exposure to natural elements.
Supporters of the stone’s authenticity also point to the tone and message of the inscription. It lacks the self-aggrandizing style of many fakes. Instead, it’s somber, almost prayerful. A record of loss, not conquest. Why would a hoaxer create such a subdued and religious tone?
The Norse in North America: A Bigger Picture
The idea that Vikings reached North America isn’t controversial in itself. In 1960, the discovery of L’Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland provided irrefutable archaeological proof that Norse explorers established a temporary settlement in the New World around the year 1000.
But from Newfoundland to Minnesota is a monumental journey—1,500 miles over rugged terrain and across numerous waterways. Could Norse explorers have made it that far?
Some theorists argue yes. They propose that Norsemen, possibly from Greenland or Iceland, ventured deep into North America using interconnected river systems. The Hudson Bay, Lake Winnipeg, and the Red River of the North provide a navigable path (albeit a challenging one) from the Canadian Arctic into the Midwest.
Supporters of the Runestone believe the group may have been a scouting or missionary expedition gone wrong—perhaps seeking to reconnect with rumored Norse settlements in Vinland or explore the continent’s interior for resources.
The Stone’s Legacy: Artifact or Americana?
Whatever its origin, the Kensington Runestone has become a cultural touchstone in Minnesota. It’s housed at the Runestone Museum in Alexandria, where it draws thousands of curious visitors every year. Its image adorns souvenirs, highway signs, and even sports mascots in the region.
It has inspired a generation of amateur historians and fueled a broader interest in pre-Columbian transatlantic contact. Books, documentaries, and podcasts have explored its story—sometimes responsibly, sometimes veering into the sensational.
To some, it’s a modern American myth—a blend of folklore, ethnic pride, and historical intrigue. To others, it’s a legitimate clue that our understanding of early exploration is far from complete.
Whether a hoax or a genuine relic, the Kensington Runestone has cemented its place in the American imagination.
Modern Investigations: The Debate Continues
In recent years, renewed scholarly interest has brought more nuance to the debate. Henrik Williams, a renowned runologist from Uppsala University in Sweden, has studied the inscription extensively. While he stops short of declaring it authentic, he argues that previous dismissals may have been too hasty or rooted in flawed assumptions.
Williams has identified examples of similar rune usage in medieval Scandinavia and has called for more scientific testing and less cultural bias in the debate. “Even if it is a hoax,” he once said, “it’s an incredibly sophisticated one—deserving of study in its own right.”
Meanwhile, amateur historians and documentary series like America Unearthed continue to promote the idea of Norse journeys into the American interior. Some theories go beyond Vikings—linking the Runestone to Templars, secret societies, or lost civilizations. While often speculative, these stories show the powerful pull of historical mystery.
Conclusion: A Puzzle in Stone
The Kensington Runestone remains one of the most fascinating historical enigmas in North America. Its simple message—etched in stone—carries the weight of discovery, tragedy, and possibly deception.
If genuine, it would place Norse explorers deep in the continent, hundreds of years before European colonists arrived. If a hoax, it is one of the most elaborate and enduring ever pulled off in American history.
But maybe the true story lies somewhere in between: not a deliberate fraud, but a misunderstood attempt to connect to a lost heritage—one that captured the imagination of a new country finding pride in its immigrant past.
Whatever the case, the Runestone speaks to something deeper than just history. It’s about our longing to discover, to connect, and to believe that we were here first.
Sources:
- Wahlgren, Erik. The Kensington Stone: A Mystery Solved. University of Wisconsin Press, 1958.
- Nielsen, Richard, and Scott Wolter. The Kensington Runestone: Compelling New Evidence. North Star Press, 2005.
- Williams, Henrik. Lectures on the Kensington Runestone. Uppsala University, 2015–2022.
- Smithsonian Institution. “L’Anse aux Meadows: Norse Evidence in North America.”
- Runestone Museum Foundation. https://www.runestonemuseum.org
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