> In the spring of 2022, a small research team was sent to North Jutland by the University of Copenhagen. We had to collect plants and seeds for the biological institute, study the customs and way of life of the locals and map the regions we passed, and for that purpose we were an anthropologist, a botanist, a surveyor, a geography student, a linguist (me), a doctor and a few people who know how to sail.

> Our first meeting with the natives became indicative of the whole expedition, short and unhappy as it was - we sailed into Mariager Fjord, put a small rowing boat in the water in a supposedly safe place to study the flora and the landscape when a boy in waders, braces and bare-chested threw cow dung at us. He shouted something in a strange language without any consonant sounds, like a toothless old man in the frenzy of a fever, and then ran off as quickly as he had come. We had been warned from home by the sole survivor of an older expedition, and though the action was innocent enough, we nevertheless became uneasy and decided never to go unarmed, and always in groups.

> Our anthropologist drew attention to a clearly man-made rock formation further inland. He had just read about a new female cult that must have spread among the primitive tribes, where the cultivated female figure was not the well-known fertility goddess, but a stern and relentless red-haired fury, who incited war against foreign peoples, and whose only offering was a form of diluted soda. The anthropologist mumbled something about a Nordic Hekate without conviction, and walked back and forth between the man-sized stones, while the rest of us refueled with smørrebrød and wine.

> After a day of surveys, records and collections, we continued into the fjord and docked at an abandoned settlement of low peat huts with a sort of central square around a gold-painted Ford Ferguson. Our two ship's men would not leave the boat and this should have warned us of the following events. Well, we went ashore and examined the cabins for traces of people. To our dismay, the settlement had clearly been abandoned very recently, and the residents must therefore be expected to return before long. Before we could take precautions we were surrounded by excited men in waders and women with wild hair and animal eyes.

> A single woman, somewhat older than the others, pointed at me and screamed a word which - as I later discovered - sounded a lot like the English "lord" *(a danish word for shit)*, and therefore must reasonably have been their word for "chief " or "king". Before long, the entire maddened mob was shouting this "lord" in unison and covering us with cow dung. I now saw a pitchfork impale itself into the surveyor and I began running as fast as I could towards the ship without looking back. I am writing this on the boat, wet and weathered, with a shaking hand. None of the others from the expedition reached the ship. Lord save me from ever setting foot on Jutland's shores again.

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