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Iceland is known to the rest of the world as the land of Vikings and volcanos, an island caught between continents at the extremities of the map. Remote and comparatively inhospitable, it was settled only as long ago as the 9th century, and has seen little additional in-migration since. Even today, more than 90 percent of Iceland’s 390,000 residents can trace their ancestry back to the earliest permanent inhabitants, a Nordic-Celtic mix. The tradition of the Norse sagas lives on in the form of careful record-keeping about ancestry—and a national passion for genealogy. In other words, it is not the place to stumble upon old family mysteries. But growing up in the capital city of Reykjavík in the 1950s, neurologist Dr. Kári Stefánsson heard stories that left him curious. Stefánsson’s father had come from Djúpivogur, an eastern coastal town where everyone still spoke of a Black man who had moved there early in the 19th century. “Hans Jónatan”, they called him—a well-liked shopkeeper who had arrived on a ship, married a spirited woman from a local farm, and became a revered member of the community. The local census did record a man by the name of Hans Jónatan, born in the Caribbean, who was working at the general store in Djúpivogur in the 19th century—but that was all. No images of the man had survived, and his time in Iceland was well before any other humans with African ancestry are known to have visited the island. If tiny, remote Djúpivogur did have a Black man arrive in the 19th century, the circumstances must have been unusual indeed. It was an intriguing puzzle—and solid grounds for a scientific investigation. Given the amount of homogeneity in the baseline Icelandic population, the genetic signature of one relative newcomer with distinct ancestry might still stand out across a large sample of his descendants. Geneticists thus joined locals and history scholars, and they pieced together a story that bridged three continents. Continue reading ▶
It’s been a busy summer, and the large shortfall in donations last month has been demoralizing, so we’re taking a week off to rest and recuperate. The curated links section will be (mostly) silent, and behind the scenes we’ll be taking a brief break from our usual researching, writing, editing, illustrating, narrating, sound designing, coding, et cetera. We plan to return to normalcy on the 11th of September. (The word “normalcy” was not considered an acceptable alternative to “normality” until 14 May 1920, when then-presidential-candidate Warren G. Harding misused the mathematical term in a campaign speech, stating that America needed, “not nostrums, but normalcy.” He then integrated this error into his campaign slogan, “Return to Normalcy.” Also, the G in Warren G. Harding stood for “Gamaliel.”) While we are away, on 06 September 2023, Damn Interesting will be turning 18 years old. To celebrate, here are the first emojis to ever appear in the body of a Damn Interesting post: 🎂🎉🎁 If you become bored while we are away, you might try a little mobile game we’ve been working on called Wordwhile. It can be played alone, or with a friend. If you enjoy games like Scrabble and Wordle, you may find this one ENJOYABLE (75 points). Launch Wordwhile → And, as always, there are lots of ways to explore our back-catalog. View this post ▶
We’re not going to post things on Twitter X anymore. The new owner keeps doing awful stuff. If you have enjoyed our mostly-daily curated links via the aforementioned collapsing service, we invite you to bookmark our curated links page, or follow us a number of other ways. Rather than linger any longer on this tedious topic, here are some home-grown dad jokes. If there is any order in this universe, the comments section will fill with more of the same. Q: What is the flavor of a chair? Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘rhetorical?’ Don’t answer that! My friend bought an alarm clock that makes loud farting sounds in the morning. He’s in for a rude awakening. You’re right, these ARE my orthopedic shoes. I stand corrected. I want a good game of hide and seek, but skilled players are hard to find. Like tight sweaters, corporate acquisitions are hard to pull off. I was offered a job at the mirror factory. I could see myself working there. Did you hear about the farmer in Colorado raising cannabis-fed cattle? The steaks are high. Q: What is the best stocking stuffer? I used to be addicted to soap, but I’ve gotten clean. I finally worked up the courage to tell my hot female coworker how I felt. She felt the same. So we turned down the thermostat. The universal remote: This changes everything. Q: How fast are donkey trucks? It smells like death in there, and not in a good way. My dad demanded that I go fetch some water from that deep hole in the ground. He means well. Calendar makers: Your days are numbered. A: I enjoy cooking with ghee, but I don’t buy it, I make my own. I will not rest until I find a cure for my insomnia. I bought my wife a new refrigerator. I can’t wait to see her face light up when she opens it. Did you hear about the hilarious thing that happened at the mandatory meeting? I guess you had to be there. Remember that sweet grandmother on Twitter who thought that ‘lol’ meant ‘lots of love’? “Sorry to hear about your uncle passing. lol.” Yesterday, we were standing at the edge of a cliff. Since then we have taken a huge step forward. We had to cancel the big game of tag because somebody got hurt. It was touch and go there for a while. “Of course you can count on me,” said the abacus. IBS is genetic, you know. Runs in the family. My grandfather once told me, “It’s worth investing in good speakers.” That was some sound advice. Extreme camping is in tents. The solar panel company wouldn’t let me pay for the installation. They said it was all on the house. I was chopping herbs all day, and now my hands are quite fragrant. I’ve got too much thyme on my hands. A weather balloon measures about 4 feet in diameter (adjusting for inflation). A: Have you ever had a flatulence-based tea? Like a German dietitian, I tend to see the wurst in people. I don’t care for rulers. That’s where I draw the line. Why did the farmer propose to his horse? He wanted a stable relationship. I still think whiteboards are one of mankind’s most remarkable inventions. The Earth has successfully rotated around its axis. Let’s call it a day. My daughter dropped a brand new tube of toothpaste and it made a big mess. She was crestfallen. You’ve got to hand it to customs agents: Your passport. My friend tried to steal a box of lipstick for us, but she accidentally grabbed a box of glue sticks. My lips are sealed. Elevators: They take things to a whole other level. A friend gave me an expired pack of batteries. They were free of charge. Comedy: To taste a bit like a comet. A: How many times do I have to apologize? My wife said that the battery in my hearing aid needed to be replaced. That was difficult to hear. I asked the ski lift operator if I could get a free ride to the top of the mountain. He didn’t take me up on it. What makes a sentence a tongue twister? It’s hard to say. If you visit Mexico, remember to use the word “mucho.” It means a lot to them. There are more hydrogen atoms in a single molecule of water than there are stars in the solar system. To whoever discovered the number zero: Thanks for nothing. View this post ▶
In the late 17th century, natural philosopher Isaac Newton was deeply uneasy with a new scientific theory that was gaining currency in Europe: universal gravitation. In correspondence with a scientific contemporary, Newton complained that it was “an absurdity” to suppose that “one body may act upon another at a distance through a vacuum.” The scientist who proposed this preposterous theory was Isaac Newton. He first articulated the idea in his widely acclaimed magnum opus Principia, wherein he explained, “I have not yet been able to discover the cause of these properties of gravity from phenomena and I feign no hypotheses […] It is enough that gravity does really exist and acts according to the laws I have explained.” Newton proposed that celestial bodies were not the sole sources of gravity in the universe, rather all matter attracts all other matter with a force that corresponds to mass and diminishes rapidly with distance. He had been studying the motions of the six known planets–Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus–and by expanding upon the laws of planetary motion developed by Johannes Kepler about eight decades earlier, he arrived at an equation for gravitational force F that seemed to match decades of data: Where m1 and m2 are the masses of the objects, r is the distance between their centers of mass, and G is the gravitational constant (~0.0000000000667408). But this is only an approximation; humanity may never know the precise value because it is impossible to isolate any measuring apparatus from all of the gravity in the universe. Fellow astronomers found that Newton’s theory seemed to be accurate–universal gravitation appeared to reliably forecast the sometimes irregular motion of the planets even more closely than Kepler’s laws. In 1705, Queen Anne knighted Isaac Newton to make him Sir Isaac Newton (though this honor was due to his work in politics, not for his considerable contributions to math or science). In the century that followed, Newton’s universal gravitation performed flawlessly. Celestial bodies appeared to adhere to the elegant theory, and in scientific circles, it began to crystallize into a law of nature. But in the early 19th century, cracks began to appear. When astronomer Alexis Bouvard used Newton’s equations to carefully calculate future positions of Jupiter and Saturn, they proved spectacularly accurate. However, when he followed up in 1821 with astronomical tables for Uranus–the outermost known planet–subsequent observations revealed that the planet was crossing the sky substantially slower than projected. The fault was not in Bouvard’s math; Uranus appeared to be violating the law of universal gravitation. Newton’s theory was again called into question in 1843 by a 32-year-old assistant astronomer at the Paris Observatory, Urbain Le Verrier. Le Verrier had been following the Uranus perturbations with great interest, while also compiling a painstaking record of the orbit of Mercury–the innermost known planet. He found that Mercury also departed from projections made by universal gravitation. Was universal gravitation a flawed theory? Or might undiscovered planets lurk in extra-Uranian and intra-Mercurial space, disturbing the orbits of the known planets? Astronomers around the world scoured the skies, seeking out whatever was perturbing the solar system. The answer, it turned out, was more bizarre than they could have supposed. Continue reading ▶
An American Indian man on horseback stood outlined against a steely sky past midday on 05 October 1877. Winter was already settling into the prairies of what would soon become the state of Montana. Five white men stood in the swaying grass on the other side of the field, watching the horse move closer. Four wore blue uniforms, another in civilian attire. One of the uniformed men was tall and stout, with bright blue eyes and a large, curling mustache. He watched the proceedings with an air of self-importance. The surrender of the man on horseback might have been inevitable, sure, but it was nevertheless a nice feather in his cap. Perhaps his superiors would finally grant him that promotion after this whole affair was over. The other four men were more apprehensive. All of them were experienced in fighting American Indians on the frontier, but this opponent had been different. One man, with a full, dark beard and right arm missing below the elbow, looked at the approaching chief with grudging respect. The man had lost his arm in the American Civil War 15 years earlier, so he knew battle well. And in his opinion, the man across the field was a tactical genius, a “Red Napoleon.” Despite overwhelming odds, this Red Napoleon had wormed his way out of battle after battle, somehow always coming out on top. Continue reading ▶
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This is the Easternmost station in London, which is Upminster. Crazy Beat Records, the Easternmost Iceland and the Easternmost library. If you're looking for vinyl, frozen party food or a classic hardback, there's nowhere Easter. Cranham. 2020 when McColls sold up and the unit is currently occupied by London's Easternmost tanning shop. London's Easternmost post office is now down the road inside Cranham's Tesco Express, which I believe is also London's Easternmost supermarket. If you want freshly baked sausage rolls, a funeral planned or a plate of pie and mash, there's nowhere Easter. Cranham. The Thatched House, which is two minutes further down St Mary's Lane than the pub which would otherwise take the title which is The Jobber's Rest. They like their pubs out here in Cranham, ideally with full-on table service including pie of the day, king prawns and a special menu for dogs. Jaxon's at the golf course also does Essex-friendly sit-down meals but it's not a pub and it'll be trumped by one further Easternmost restaurant we'll get to later. If you count marine dealers selling outboard motors then Boating Mania opposite The Jobber's Rest is London's Easternmost shop, or alternatively you might count the gift shop at the Thames Chase Forest Centre, but my vote is with Sea Fish, the chippie in the previous paragraph. If you want cod wrapped in paper and slathered in vinegar with a gherkin side, there's nowhere Easter. North Ockendon. North Ockendon is famously the only inhabited part of London outside the M25 and really ought to be in Thurrock. But it isn't and thus contains London's Easternmost church, which is St Mary Magdalene, the Easternmost car lot and the Easternmost reptile showroom. The most convincingly Easternmost business is Fenlands Nursery, a mini garden centre brimming with attractive shrubs and plants where you pay for your wares in an open shed. North Ockendon is also home to London's Easternmost bus stop, which is Home Farm Cottage, and boasted London's Easternmost pub until The Old White Horse closed in 2022. If you want to buy begonias, flash your Oyster or bemoan the decline of pub culture, there's nowhere Easter. Fen Lane. This is the Easternmost golf course in London, which is Top Meadows. Top Meadows has 18 holes, was built on the site of a former gravel pit and is 40 years old this year. More to the point it also has several bedrooms and a bespoke dining suite so doubles up as London's Easternmost hotel and Easternmost restaurant. It marks the edge of the village of North Ockendon, beyond which everything is fields, as Fen Lane slopes gently down London's Easternmost hill. It looks idyllic out there, or at least scenically agricultural, although all this may be swept away in the near future to enable the creation of Europe's largest data centre. An incredible 200 acres of digital storage is planned, I suspect solely because this is the very very edge of London so almost nobody will notice. If you want environmental damage, 1000 jobs and the hum of network servers, there'll be nowhere Easter. Home Farm. newbuild under construction - but although they back onto Fen Lane they're actually in Essex so they don't count. If you want a roadsign indicating a double bend, a final pylon and a track leading to a solar farm, there's nowhere Easter. Mardyke. We're now almost two miles down Fen Lane from the last T-junction in North Ockendon, a ridiculous distance to have walked and yet still somehow remain within Greater London. The Mardyke is the longest river in Thurrock, a good 11 miles all told, and the drainer of considerable fenland hereabouts. It's name means "boundary ditch" so you'd expect this bridge would mark the edge of Greater London, but not so because the boundary deviates away from the river here to accommodate two further fields. If you see that row of trees in the near distance, behind the tallest tree closest to the road, that's the actual edge of London along the line of a less significant ditch (currently dry). If you want a hedgerow, some discarded fast food wrappings and a concealed gas pipeline, there's nowhere Easter. Fen Lane. A ditch passes beneath the road almost unseen but you can't miss the cacophony of signage indicating you're passing from one jurisdiction to another. Both sides have street signs naming the local authority, although the Thurrock one has suffered some serious vandalism and been bent back on itself. Thurrock have also erected signs warning about court injunctions and automatic numberplate recognition, suggesting they're joyless souls, but at least they have an official 'Thurrock' boundary sign whereas Havering's has vanished since I was last here in 2008. Speed limits change too, from 50 on the Thurrock side to a positively nannyish 30 in Havering, and you can also see the divide in the tarmac where maintenance responsibility changes. Havering's side is definitely potholier. If you want to stand somewhere in London, there's nowhere Easter. ditch beside Bulphan Fen. precise spot is just down there in the water, where the dry ditch beneath the road meets a broader trench which carried the main flow of the Mardyke before the fens were drained. To get here you have to walk on towards Bulphan for a couple of minutes and then back down the Mardyke Way, a waymarked path which starts at Harrow Bridge and continues 7 miles to Davy Down. The banks on the Thurrock side are thickety with long grasses and a brief grass dip where you can step down to the water's edge at the precise boundary turn. The banks on the London side are denser with overhanging foliage and currently blossom, with one of these being London's Easternmost tree at London's Easternmost point in London's Easternmost corner. If you want to experience how utterly ridiculously remote East London gets, there's nowhere Easter.
Which means you need to get off dry land, and get in the water. You’ll need a teacher. They work best with you in the water too. It’s gonna be scary at first. It’s gonna be wet. You’ll need to rinse after. That’s what it takes to learn to swim. (Applies to everything else too.) […] The post You learn to swim by swimming… appeared first on Herbert Lui.
10 Routes To The Summit of Box Hill 1) Burford Spur Box Hill, the one I keep coming back to, the route with the great views where you get the knackering bit done up front. It kicks off at Burford Bridge by the hotel and the bikers cafe, i.e. all the facilities, then slips through a gap in the hedge. One of the best things about it is that you can alight from a 465 bus and be climbing the hill literally five seconds later, so well positioned is the bus stop. The chalky slope can initially be a slippery scramble after wet weather but it's bone dry at the moment so a solid ascent. What you're encouraged to do is use the steps that start a short way up but I much prefer to bear off to the left up the open path, or more specifically the grass bank to one side because that always feels less hassle. It doesn't take long to rise above the treeline opening up ever-improving views across the valley but only if you look behind you, so it's perfectly OK to stop panting and pause several times on the climb. It's always worth another look. The higher you go the more you see - dual carriageway, vineyard, country houses, ridgetop woodland, Dorking. You may also have to dodge between groups who've properly paused and sat down on the grass to better enjoy the panorama. Keep going and the view becomes partially shielded behind a row of trees, then follows a broad chalky path into woodland, ever climbing but nowhere near as breathlessly as before. A sheer chalk cliff is hidden just over the rim. Keep right if you want the viewpoint or left if you want the summit, the latter a tad quicker and taking in a derelict fort along the way. It's less than twenty minutes from bus to National Trust cafe if you didn't dawdle, and perhaps a more satisfying pot of tea if you did. 2) Below Burford Spur Zig Zag Road and the path should be pretty obvious. You'll join up with route 1 partway through the second paragraph. 3) Zig Zag Road twists satisfyingly up the hillside, perhaps watched over by marshals if some kind of organised cycling activity is underway. If you're walking best take the decent path which continues upwards at the first hairpin because doubling back is a waste of time. If you're cycling the best view is on the third leg. If you're driving prepare to be patient as cyclists wish you weren't in their way, but how else are you going to get the kids and the pushchair up to the car park where you can proceed to enjoy the hilltop expanse without any of the effort the other visitors have expended. The Easter Egg Trail setting off from the Shepherd's Hut is a seasonal treat, with cardboard bunny ears for younger visitors and a choice of dairy or vegan chocolate egg once completed. 4) via Juniper Top 5) via Juniper Bottom 6) via Lodge Hill Saxon church, a proper pub and a parking problem that regularly impedes the progress of the 465. Take the path up the side of the churchyard for the longer tougher walk in, or alight from the bus at Juniper Hall for a less humpy walk up Headley Lane. Once past the mini car park the choices open up, branching one way for Juniper Top and one way for Juniper Bottom - the contours will make it obvious which is which. One of the National Trust's waymarked walks heads out down one and back up the other, but that's from the cafe. My preferred route veers off a short way along Juniper Bottom, or more accurately veers up via a precipitous set of steps. Precipitous steps are commonplace in the Box Hill area but can generally be avoided if you pick your path well. At the top of this set is the path to Broadwood's Folly, a flint tower that used have two storeys and a spiral staircase but is now just a shell. The great storm of 1987 did for the beech avenue out front. Much woodland remains for you to walk through as you ascend Lodge Hill, a minor summit just above the Zig Zag Road, before proceeding to the proper trig point on Box Hill itself. 7) Across the Stepping Stones car park, and also to the 465's North Downs Way bus stop (southbound only). Seventeen hexagonal stepping stones span the river Mole at a conveniently narrow point, just challenging enough that an eight year old would find it an adventure. Eighty year olds probably shouldn't risk it, also best not go this way if it's rained a lot because I have seen the stones overtopped by a slippery torrent. Come on a bank holiday and you should expect to join a queue to cross, not least because those going one way have to wait for everyone going the other way to cross. 8) Over the Rambler's Memorial Bridge footbridge dedicated to the memory of lost wartime souls. A good way to reach it is from Burford Bridge along a crescent path at the foot of the chalk cliffs, although you can also get there from the Stepping Stones because the two routes deliberately connect. But the ascent is then exactly the same 270 steps as before, entirely the same challenge, so again do be aware what you're letting yourself in for. 9) From Dorking If you stand at Salomon's viewpoint on the brow of Box Hill the town of Dorking is laid out beneath you, enticingly close. It looks like you could walk down the steep grass slope, then cross fields and be in the high street with ease. But in fact those fields are private and beyond them is the wiggly River Mole which along this stretch is entirely bridgeless, so I recommend you're not tempted. Anyone attempting to ascend from the south instead has walk out of town past the cemetery at least as far as Castle Mill, or park up by the garden centre, then take a duller slog across the railway and then some. 10) From Box Hill Village hundreds of people to live there. Most of the properties are mobile homes but many are plotland homesteads and little mansions as if this were the most normal place to have a home. The North Downs Way heads in via this route, also umpteen other feeder footpaths and obviously an actual road which is the least challenging way to arrive gradientwise. Arriving from the east is definitely the long way in so not ideal if you're here for a day trip experience, but it is a genuine alternative and has its quarry-top moments. If you think you've climbed Box Hill what I hope I've proved in today's post is that there are so many other ways to do it which is why it's always, always worth coming back.
Do most people get stuck with their creative work because they didn’t create momentum? Or do most people create momentum, but need more time to think out a breakthrough idea? Which direction sounds more correct to you? To me, it’s very clear the first direction applies to more people. Most people’s creative ambitions die from […] The post What the jellyfish knows: A compilation appeared first on Herbert Lui.
