Olof Ohman, a Swedish immigrant farmer, claimed to have found the Kensington Runestone in 1898, tangled in the roots of an aspen tree on his property. The 200-pound slab was covered with runic inscriptions describing a medieval Scandinavian expedition. Ohman contacted academics; initial reaction was skeptical. The stone circulated through universities and museums, examined by linguists who noted numerous problems with the inscription. The scientific consensus emerged quickly: the stone was modern, the runes were wrong, the 'discovery' was fabricated. Ohman, who had the skills to carve runes, became the obvious suspect. He denied involvement until his death in 1935.

The inscription's language dooms its authenticity. The runes include characters not used in 1362, spellings that reflect 19th-century rather than 14th-century Swedish, and grammatical forms that anachronistically mix old and modern. Words like 'ded' (dead) follow English rather than Norse patterns. The date format - 'from Vinland' with 'of the west' - makes no sense in medieval Norse context. Linguists who've studied Scandinavian languages unanimously reject the stone's authenticity. The errors are exactly what a 19th-century Swedish immigrant would make if trying to fake medieval runes from books and imperfect knowledge.

Despite professional consensus, belief in the Runestone persists. The Runestone Museum in Alexandria displays the stone prominently, presenting its authenticity as plausible. Local boosters embrace the Viking connection, building 'Big Ole' - a 28-foot Viking statue - as town mascot. True believers propose elaborate theories: the linguists are wrong, the Viking expedition was real, evidence exists elsewhere. Some point to the Kensington site's proximity to medieval Norse artifacts found in Greenland and Newfoundland, ignoring the vast distance and lack of intermediary evidence. The will to believe exceeds the willingness to examine.

Why would Ohman fake a Viking stone? The most compelling theory involves ethnic pride. Swedish and Norwegian immigrants in 1890s Minnesota faced discrimination from established Anglo-American communities. A Viking discovery would prove that Scandinavians had reached America before Columbus, before the English, before everyone. The hoax, if hoax it was, served identity politics - establishing a historical claim that elevated immigrant communities. Ohman never confessed, never showed guilt, maintained his story for 37 years. Perhaps he believed it himself eventually, or perhaps the community's embrace made confession impossible.

The Runestone Museum is located in Alexandria, Minnesota, roughly 130 miles northwest of Minneapolis via Interstate 94. The museum displays the actual stone, presents evidence from both believers and skeptics (though tilted toward believers), and offers context on the controversy. Big Ole, the Viking statue, stands downtown. The site where Ohman allegedly found the stone is near Kensington, 10 miles northwest, though there's nothing to see there now. Alexandria offers chain hotels and lake recreation. The museum experience is instructive - watching how a community embraces a likely hoax because the alternative is less interesting. The stone is real; its story almost certainly isn't.