Dobber-Blog: Troll...I mean ancestor hunting Day

Lars Larson
My grandpa is Gordon Paulson. His grandpa is Lars Larson, who grew up in Norway before emigrating to Wisconsin. He ultimately died in the same town I was born in about 60 years later- Barron, Wisconsin. So Lars is my link to the 'old country' as well as the first link to the place in Wisconsin my family has called home for over a century. Our first day in Norway was to go to the places where Lars and some older generations of ancestors lived. Thanks to my mom who had family research on hand that was specific enough tolist the 'farm name' where they lived. Modern maps still show these farm names.

To try to keep the girls engaged we said we were on a troll hunt, and they should look for them at each of the farms. As it turned out, we had plenty of other drama and the troll hunt became an afterthought.

Ringsaker Kommune

Hedmark- similar to a state, Ringsaker- similar to a county. Ringsaker is about 20 miles long and 10 miles wide.

After having seen the name Ringsaker on family history documents my whole life, it choked me up a bit to actually be there. A fantastic feeling. I made us cross this bridge an extra time just to get a good picture of the sign.

Halla farm

Our first stop was Halla farm. Lars' father Johannes Larson was born and lived here. The last bit of gravel road was too icy to climb by car. Actually we tried twice, pulling halfway up the drive and sliding back down precariously. Luckily we didn't slide off onto the 20% grade hill on our side. With everyone a little bit shaken by the sound of ABS grinding as we slid helplessly backwards, I went up alone on foot. Unfortunately no one was home. I would have loved to ask someone how old the buildings were. They were definitely of an old style and construction type compared to other homes and buildings we saw. I can't say if they are 150 years old, but the foundations of the barn and home certainly seem like it's possible. I got chills standing in the centre of this farm thinking- my ancestors may have laid those very rocks together!! Even if the buildings are more modern, to see the exact rugged landscape they fought with and conquered filled me with awe.

Brottum church

In the words of Lars Larson: "When I was 14 years old I began taking instructions from the minister at a place called Dusgaard. Our minister's name was Pastor Borchgrevink. We met each Monday, 55 boys. As many girls met on Tuesday. In October 1871 we were confirmed at the Brottum Church as it was centrally located. Some were from Ringsaker, Valdre, Aasmarken, and Messena Dallen. There were altogether 110 that were confirmed that day. We didn't get through until midnight. That was the biggest class ever confirmed there". (Pretty cool to be at the same church in October...just 139 years after the fact)

Brottum is about 5 miles south of Lillehammer and almost 8 miles from Lars' home in Vangen. Some detail below will clarify this is not an 8 mile stroll along the lake. It is a constant climb up or down mountains to cross that terrain. Amazing people. I've often wondered why they left the cold of Norway for the extra-cold of Wisconsin/Minnesota. The weather, abundance of lakes and rivers and forests probably made them feel right at home, but the improved 'flat' terrain in the northern states must have made it seem like the promised land.

12 stones

We mixed in a small amount of local history along the way. There are a few of these stone circles from circa 4,000 years ago. As with Stonehenge, no one can agree what they were used for. We used them as a photo op. on a cold, rainy day.

Afseth Farm
Afseth farm was home to Lars' mother and two generations older as well. I did meet an old guy who confirmed it definitely was Afseth, but was about all he could say. Of all the luck, he was the one person we met who hardly spoke English. Obviously the home and barn are not 200+ years old, but still interesting to see the area my family lived in. Well...with the fog you really can't see much of anything. It was incredibly hilly again, with a steep drop off after the house. Sheep would have been hard pressed to find use of the vertical terrain.

Vangen

Lars Larson was born and grew up in Vangen and his memoir said they found the graves of a local noble near his home, so that was a place I really wanted to get to. After weaving up the mountain on icy gravel roads for about 10 miles, and passing zero cars we came to an even smaller gravel track. Deciding we'd come this far, why stop now- we proceeded.

The picture below does not give an accurate depiction of the horror we encountered. Our Mercedes A160 immediately bottomed out on the first two ruts, causing me to try and straddle them the best possible. This was difficult though as the road was barely wide enough for the car. Soon the entire road was iced over, with no more than a foot on either side of our tires, we could have slid into the frozen swamp at any moment. We had been gradually sloping downhill but soon faced a 10 foot long pool of ice. I knew we'd slide into the ditch if we attempted to cross. I threw the car in reverse only to be greeted by the whirring of spinning tires. A few deep swallows ensued.

"Are we stuck?" asked my ever-patient, non-Norwegian wife as our ancestor search seemed to be turning to disaster. The girls quit being silly and sat wide-eyed in the back seat. I had Lana get out to try and guide me to the edge of th cliff to see if we could turn around. After a couple tries we gave up on that manoever. In a last ditch effort before asking Lana, who is only slightly trained on a manual transmission, to drive so I could push us up the slope, I aligned the car with the edge of the road. There was a sliver of muddy, non-icy ground. Spinning and whirring, we slowly gained traction and speed. Not wanting to lose momentum, I gunned it.

"Dad! We're driving off the road!" screamed the girls as our hatchback smashed down small shrubs and bushes. When the gate was finally in sight again, I stopped the car and helped Lana walk up the ice track to the car. It was only after we got all the way out that I felt calm enough to take the picture below. It may be the only time in our married life I've been more nervous about something than Lana. Getting stuck 10 miles from civilization on the first day of vacation while searching for the home of some long-lost ancestor doesn't generally improve morale- so I was incredibly grateful we survived unscathed.

We never saw where Lars lived, but gained an appreciation for the geography they contended with on a daily basis. It is fine if they liked to ski down to town- but how the heck did they ever get home?

After the first bend it turns to pure ice and the left side becomes an immediate 4 foot drop off.

Moelv

After the drama up near Vangen, we paused in Moelv- a town of 3,000 and the largest city in Ringsaker kommune- for lunch. I ordered the first thing on the menu, which I'll let you pronounce. It was a buttered piece of toast, mild sausage, and some sauteed onions and salad on top. Quite good (for only $10). Again, luckily the staff spoke perfect English and translated the menu for us. The girls got gigantic burgers.

Karbonadesmorbrod (smor- butter, brod-bread, karbonade- your guess)

1 Karbonadesmorbrod- $10

1 Boboli -$10

2 hamburgers- $30

not getting stuck in the uninhabited mountains of Norway searching for the likely demolished home of an ancestor who lived there 150 years ago- Priceless

We stopped at the local grocery store and were pleased to see stacks of Lefse next to the other bread. Having grown up eating lefse every Christmas, it was nice to see it is a food that still lives on in Norway. Through various conversations we confirmed they use it more like a tortilla/wrap and will put any meat, cheese, fish or anything inside it. They seemed to think butter and sugar was a fine option though. This brand we saw all over and is made in Gjovik- a town of 20,000 we drove through a few times. We found circle and square varieties.

A thick, pre-sweetened lefse also exists. No potatoes in this kind (unlike the more familiar potato 'flatbread' lefse). It was quite good and we got the recipe to try out sometime.

For those of you familiar with Komla/Kruub/Raspeballer. as someone on TripAdvisor described it 'a dense, potatoey ball of glue'. We got a magazine showing it as a traditional recipe, so it definitely exists. They are clever in wrapping a piece of ham in the middle of the ball to improve palatability.

Thursday is indeed Comla day. We found a hostel that served on the first Thursday of the month, so we missed it by one week. "Oh darn," said Lana. Everyone said it is more a 'food of the West'. So, I guess it came from the Ormsons and Paulsons that lived over near Bergen. As we tried to find it in a restaurant, everyone said it was more a 'food you'd only make your family eat'. Although, there may have been something lost in translation there....maybe.

We also weren't sure if the multiple names came from different regions calling it different things, or people trying to deny its existence by constantly changing its name "Komla, no we don't have komla here....oh, yes well we do serve Kruub". You know, like a family secret recipe that is so good you don't want anyone else to steal it. (if you've had comla, you'll understand what I'm blathering on about. If you haven't, too bad for you).

Moose Carvings

One of the other historical items in the area is prehistoric carvings of moose on a rock. The directions seemed clear, but after about 30 minutes of slogging through wet boggy ground we gave up. (a later map indicated we were only halfway there). To try to pass the time we pretended to be on a moose hunting party. Emily was 'Astrid' and tasked to push the moose in from the left. Amy christened herself the less traditional 'Coliando' and pushed in from the right. I was Olaf and drove down the middle of the valley. Mom was Helga and back home cooking tea and making biscuits.

If Emily saw a moose she was going to strike it down with her mighty bow and arrow, me- my powerful, swift sword. Coliando (Amy)- claimed she'd take it with her bare hands. We were bummed to not find the moose carvings, but had an interesting experience anyway.

(can you taste the enthusiasm?)

My packet of family history records also contains a picture of Ringsaker church. It was really neat to be at a place that I have a hundred year old picture of. The church was built in the 1200s and due to its proximity likely was the primary church for most of my relatives from that area.