A World Away From Home: An Icelandic Journey

By Steve Stephens

Everything was taken from Undina. Her home, her horse, her dreams… it was all gone. At 14, she was forced from the fjords of Iceland by violent volcanic eruptions. At 23, she was forced from the tall pines of Lily Lake in Ontario by poor crops and heartbreak. She settled in the rugged lands of the Dakota Territory in 1881 with Jakob, whose alcoholism wreaks havoc on her life and those of her children. Every day was a challenge. Unbelievable tragedy struck her time and time again, and it almost destroyed her.
Undina refused to give up. With grit and determination, she built a life in the wilderness and is saved by her writing, courage, and the love of her father. This is the story of a female Icelandic poet who embraced beauty and found hope in the New World.
Undina and Jakob became a part of a new Icelandic community which promoted faith, art, and progressive social issues. Then, it all fell apart. She held onto a relentless hope and became an example of survival regardless of what she had to face.
This is a gripping journey of standing strong and finding light amid darkness. Though the night might be black, the stars can provide a sparkling beauty which carries one forward to a series of new dreams. The harder life became, the deeper her poetry went. In the end, she found a way that went beyond what anyone thought possible.
"A World Away From Home" is based on the true story of Helga Baldwinsdottir, the Icelandic poet who wrote under the name Undina. This work includes hundreds of her poems, translated into English for the first time. They capture her joy and playfulness alongside her pain and struggle as she embraces both life and death. This historical fiction explores the drama of an adventure-filled life intermixed with the poetry of her own words.
Undina overcame the most difficult of situations. She stretched beyond all that was hard and heartbreaking to that place where she truly thrived. This strong woman learned to embrace tragedy and melancholy, turning it into a wellspring of creativity, beauty, and ultimate meaning.
Here is the unknown story of one of the strongest and most tragic figures of Iceland, and perhaps of all literature. Once you've met Undina, you will never forget her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667898209

Book preview

PART ONE

June 1873–December 1880

THE LILY

(Sunday, 15 June 1873; Grof, Iceland)

It’s not fair!

Do we need to walk, while the rest of the family is getting ready for church? said Papa as he pulled on a sweater.

I don’t know what to say, said Helga.

Papa opened the door to their turf house. The bright light of early morning caused them both to shade their eyes. It was eight, but the sun had been up for six hours.

You’ve never had a shortage of words.

And I’ve never been this upset.

I’m sorry. Papa walked alongside her down the narrow dirt road that ran across the moor. Life has gotten hard.

I don’t mind when things are hard, said Helga. We are Vikings.

But there are some things kids shouldn’t have to worry about.

I’m fourteen and a half, so don’t treat me like a kid.

You’re right, but sometimes we have to make difficult choices.

You’re the smartest man I know, said Helga. She had to walk fast to keep up with him. Can’t you come up with a better option?

I’ve struggled with this problem all winter long, and I believe this is best.

What does Mother think?

She trusts me, said Papa. He stopped and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Besides, we have a lot of friends and family who will go with us.

I don’t care who goes! said Helga as she pushed his hand away. I refuse to go!

Your brothers and sisters don’t want to leave the farm either, but they accept this as an adventure.

How can we leave this island? It’s our home! It’s been our home for a thousand years.

We can build a new home.

It won’t be the same. Her steely blue eyes flared and she crossed her arms over her chest.

You’re right, but we don’t have a choice.

We always have a choice, said Helga. Didn’t the pastor once say that when a door gets closed, God opens a window.

And this is our window, said Papa, stroking his beard. I don’t think so.

This past winter was the bitterest I’ve ever seen, and sea ice is still floating in the fjord. I even heard that polar bears crossed to the Westfjords from Greenland.

It’s summer. She spread out her long arms. The days are long. The fields are emerald green. And the wildflowers are blooming everywhere. Isn’t it beautiful!

It is beautiful. He looked around. And I’m grateful for the sunshine, but there’s still a strange chill in the air.

Didn’t Jesus say to not let our hearts be troubled?

So you’ve been listening to the sermons? he laughed.

Yes, said Helga. She turned serious. And I think we should be happy where God has placed us. Jesus said to look at the lilies of the field, and how well God takes care of them. Won’t he also take care of us?

The crops have failed for two straight years, and this summer doesn’t look any better.

So we’ll eat less.

Your mother is six months pregnant, and soon there’ll be another mouth to feed.

We have plenty of sheep.

Half our flock has died.

But last month’s birthing time was so good. There are lambs everywhere.

Yes, there are. But it’s too little, too late.

What does that mean?

The decision has been made, Helga.

And nothing will change your mind?

Nothing! said Papa. He didn’t look at her. Next week we must sell all our possessions.

Everything?

Everything we can’t take with us to Canada.

Canada?

Yes, the ship leaves from Akureyri in a month.

So you have it all figured out. Helga turned around and walked back toward the house.

Papa hurried after her. No one has it all figured out. But I’m doing my best to give our family a fresh start.

What if we don’t want a fresh start?

It’s what we’ve got to do to survive.

Does everyone else know about your grand moving sale?

Your sisters and older brother.

When were you going to let me in on the family secret? She stopped at the front door and stared him in the eye.

I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, he said.

Now you know, she said as she ran toward the three-sided horse house. And as for church, I’m not going with you!

Papa let her go, knowing that trying to stop her would only intensify her emotions.

Helga raced with long legs across the open fields that looked over the choppy fjord until she fell onto the bright grass and wept. She tore the ivory clasp from her dark chestnut hair and flung it into the blue sky. Her fingers tore apart the neat braids that her mother had carefully woven the night before. She shook her head until her hair floated wild in the breeze that blew boldly from the sea.

She looked up at the horse house.

It was empty.

Thirty-two of the horses, plus the foals, had been taken up to the highland pastures last month. They had been released into the wild to roam freely among the rocky cliffs, between the gorges and the glaciers. Ten were kept in the lower pasture below the horse house. There was Fluga, the fastest mare they had, and Floki and Flugnir, two palomino stallions. They were eating peacefully on the north end of the field. Ragna, a chestnut mare, and Stormur, a spotted silver-gray stallion, were playing some sort of tag, racing about with a swift effortless flow that transfixed Helga.

But it was Flosi she was looking for. Where was he?

Helga put her fingers in her mouth and blew a long, sharp whistle. Then she waited, listening attentively as she scanned the landscape. She knew Flosi had heard, and she had no doubt he would come. She looked about once again, but still nothing.

Then she heard a three-beat gallop in the distance, and a bright whinny. She moved forward as Flosi came toward her, nodded his head, snorted and nuzzled into her shoulder. Helga threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the forehead. Flosi snorted again.

Helga led him up to the horse house and gave him a fistful of hay.

He whinnied until she gave him more.

Such a good boy, she said as she brushed down his perfectly white coat until it shined. You’d never make me leave my home, would you? You love this farm with all its grass and flowers and everything. She scratched the side of his neck, and Flosi nuzzled her. I love you, she said as she nuzzled him back. Then she ran a wide-toothed comb through his thick, coarse mane and long tail until he looked as grand as any horse she had ever seen.

Helga slipped on his bridle and saddle as Flosi stood perfectly still. Then she went to the back of the barn and took a leather case from a wooden shelf. It held a small notebook, a fountain pen, and a bottle of brown ink that Fridrika and Asgeir had given her for her last birthday. She had written several poems in it during the past six months. But none of them seemed right. Whatever the problem, she hadn’t been satisfied so she’d torn out the pages and burned them. The rest of the pages were empty, but she was convinced that today she would create her first original and legitimate poem, one that would make her a real poet like her great-grandfather Tomas or the saga writers of old.

When Helga was much younger, Mother had a dream that her daughter would be a poet. Helga said she didn’t know how to write a poem but her mother shrugged. When the muses are ready, they’ll lead you down that path. Then you will know there are words on the wind that swirls about you. But if you are not fast enough to catch them, they will all blow away.

Ever since that moment Helga had been fascinated with words. She’d listened to Papa recite the ancient sagas on long winter nights and read every book in the family library and memorized any poem that sounded challenging.

She tucked the case in a saddle bag, climbed on Flosi’s back, and headed west toward the sea a half mile away. Helga leaned forward and held on tight with a broad smile on her face as her hair blew in the wind. At the shoreline she turned north and they trotted more slowly along the golden sand, wondering whether she should run away into the hinterlands above her farm and never return. She let out a sigh and rode a little faster. On her left, whitecaps danced like fairies on the fjord. On her right, towering basalt columns rose from the water as Flosi splashed through the shallow waves to get around them. She looked up to see a dozen black and white puffins nesting on sharp ledges high above. They grunted and growled.

How can such pretty birds sound so disgusting? she said to Flosi. He whinnied.

I agree, she laughed, urging him forward.

A few moments later she passed a mossy cliff with a single thick strand of silver water falling through the shadows and crashing into an oval pool of clear water. She climbed off, dipped her hands into the glacier run-off, and took a deep drink. Flosi lowered his head and drank too. She dipped her hands in again, but this time splashed the water on her head. It soaked into her hair and ran down her face.

She reached over and patted her horse on the shoulder and kissed him on the forehead. She climbed back on her saddle and said, Let’s get out of here, good boy!

Before they got started, Helga heard a harsh caw-caw from the broad blue sky above. She looked up to see a glossy black raven soaring on its broad wings. It swept low in front of her, and called out again. It must be one of Odin’s ravens, she said to Flosi. What do you think he wants?

The bird circled the girl and her horse, then climbed toward the eastern uplands with another caw-caw.

I think he wants us to follow him, she said. Papa says ravens are wayfinders, so let’s see where this one leads us.

Helga turned Flosi from the sea and they followed the bird. They rode across open pasture lands and up a steep slope into a lava field of ferns and forget-me-nots. An hour or two passed and still the raven led them on. They rode through a purple valley of arctic thyme where a herd of sheep grazed peacefully. She stopped and watched the month- old lambs running, leaping, playing without a care in the world.

Wouldn’t it be nice if life were so easy? she said to Flosi. Caw-caw. The raven called them forward.

As the sun touched the highest point in the sky, Helga led Flosi to a fast-flowing stream where they both drank deeply again. She ate wild strawberries, small but sweet.

The raven circled, before calling them further upward and eastward toward the high rocks. Thick, moody clouds swept in from the north—black and grey—burying the sun for a moment. The landscape dimmed to darker shades that almost made Helga turn her horse toward home. But then shafts of light burst through, making the mountain buttercups glow. Helga followed the yellow pathway up the hillside until it dissipated into a scattering of golden sparks.

The raven settled on an outcrop of rock on the hillside. As Helga approached, she saw that the rocks were the remains of an early settler’s hut. The raven cawed twice and took flight back to the sea. Helga felt the texture of the rough stones.

Then she saw it.

A single calla lily stood tall in the shadow of the wall. Its snow-white bloom curved like an open cup toward the stormy sky.

Isn’t it beautiful? she cried as she jumped from Flosi and ran toward the blossom . She bowed down and smelled the fragrant flower. This is it!

Suddenly a wave of sorrow came upon her and the tears flowed. She dug her fingers into the turf and shouted to the sky, No one! No one can take me from my island!

Drops of a gentle drizzle mingled with her tears. She sat on the soft mossy ground and sobbed until there was a break in the rain.

Helga pulled the notebook from its case. The words just came, like they had always been there and were just waiting for her to find them. They came so fast she could barely keep up. They flowed across the pages in her simple, elegant cursive. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t look up until she came to her poem’s final word.

My Lily

Once again I escape to the hillside

Where my lily stands so strong.

But what makes the water flow down your white petals?

Why do you shed such sorrowful tears?

You prod my pain until I weep with you.

If I could only stay with you

I’d wipe away my tears and delight in all your beauty;

I’d treasure each moment

And enjoy every day on this hillside;

I’d only talk to you of happy things

And never complain of cold winds.

But that is not my fate.

So I can’t hide my tears or hold back my sobbing.

In a month my family is leaving our home,

I’m only a child, but I’m already broken.

I sit beside you and speak of my family’s journey

And how I must go away with them.

As the summer sun slowly fades

I bend down and whisper that I love you

And how I hope you’ll always be happy on this green grassy hillside.

As for me, there’s been no happiness

Since I’ve discovered I must move so far from you!

With the last word she set down her pen. She’d lost track of time. Flosi stood a few feet away, keeping guard as Odin’s breath blew through his mane. He closed his eyes. Helga put the notebook in its case, and mounted her horse.

It’s time to head home, good boy.

She rode at a full gallop as the wind swept through her hair and a driving rain soaked through her clothes. Down from the mountains, past the stream and the sheep to the wide open pasture land that sloped to the sea. She turned into the shelter of the barn.

Helga dried her face and hair with a towel that hung on the wall. Then she put the case back on its shelf and pushed it as far back as she could, so no one would find it. She removed the saddle and brushed the sweat and steam from Flosi.

So you found your calling. Her mother stood in the shadows.

What do you mean?

The raven told me.

I rode to the uplands, said Helga.

To the lily?

Helga nodded. And I saw our sheep.

Papa sold them all this afternoon, said Mother.

But it’s Sunday.

Desperate times demand hard decisions. Mother placed her arms around her daughter. We leave the farm in just a few days.

SAILING AWAY

(Monday, 4 August 1873; Aukureyri, Iceland)

Is everything packed?

The trunks are ready. Mother sat on a bench, braiding Josefina’s hair.

So are we truly leaving? Helga paced back and forth in a large canvas tent at the edge of town. Her brothers were playing Fox and Geese quietly in a corner.

Yes, we’re leaving, Papa said firmly. We’ve been through this a hundred times. We are Vikings. We love adventures. Do I have to remind you that we are direct descendants of Eric the Red?

I know. He discovered Greenland. And his son discovered Vinland.

Which is where we are going. It’s like we are returning to our roots.

But don’t the sagas say he was chased out by the natives and his brother was killed?

Yes, but that was a long time ago.

Look, said Helga, turning toward her mother, she’s not far from birthing. Maybe we should wait until next summer.

We’ve been waiting six weeks for the ship, and finally it is here. You should be happy.

Happy for what? To leave the only place I know? To leave the place I love with all my heart? I was hoping the ship would never come.

We’ve got to be at the docks by nine, said Papa as he finished his coffee and put a pinch of snuff in his lower lip. And we should be early to make sure everything is as we need.

"I heard the Queen is overloaded," said Josefina.

With more people and more horses than it was ever meant to carry, said Helga. The ship is bound to sink, drowning everybody on board.

The ship is not going to sink.

But look how crowded it will be and the hold is disgusting. This ship isn’t meant for humans. Did you know that we are all riding in steerage with the horses?

But I thought you loved the island horses, said Josefina. I do, but Papa sold all our horses.

I had to sell them to buy our passage, said Papa. Tickets for seven to Canada are not cheap.

But you didn’t need to sell Flosi. He was mine. I loved him more than anything. Helga broke into tears.

I’m so sorry, said Josefina as she hugged her sister.

What choice did I have? said Papa gently. We have to leave, whether you like it or not. Don’t you think this is hard on the rest of us?

But we could have let Flosi run wild. We could have set him free. Now he’s going to be worked to death, far from home, in some dirty, black mine.

It is what it is, said Papa. "The Queen might not be the perfect ship, but she’ll get us to Scotland."

But I thought we were going to Canada, said Josefina. In Scotland we’ll catch a bigger ship to cross the Atlantic.

And that’s where our new life will begin, said Mother. We’ve got plenty of friends and cousins going with us. So stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Are these ready? Papa and Asgeir lifted the first of the two trunks. Mother nodded.

This is a lot heavier than it looks, groaned Asgeir.

These trunks have everything we need to start our new life, said Papa. Clothes, jewelry, Mother’s spinning wheel and carding brushes, pots, pans, my anvil and violin, tools, and plenty of books.

Books? Why so many books?

They are our culture.

But books are heavy, said Asgeir.

Each of these volumes hold lessons, said Papa. And these lessons teach us about life.

I know education is important, but...

Islanders are the most literate people in the world. And that’s because we believe in books.

But won’t there be books there?

I’m sure there will be, said Papa. And so we will buy more.

If we can afford them.

We will always make learning and literature a priority. Haven’t you heard the old saying that it’s better to go barefoot than go without books.

I know, but our books are so heavy this trunk could break our backs.

Then we’d have more time to read.

I guess so. Asgeir shrugged.

The two men shuffled the heavy trunk out the canvas door of the tent and into the cold, foggy morning. The street was bustling with more activity and noise than they’d known since first arriving.

Come and join us, said Mother to Fridrika, who had been cleaning the breakfast dishes and was now lost in an Old Norse tale of romance.

I can’t even imagine a new life, said Helga. She sat down in front of Mother, who began weaving the strands of her hair together.

Papa and the travelers have had emigration meetings down at the Government House twice a week, said Mother. They’ve decided that we all should stick together and create our own community in Canada.

What kind of community?

I don’t know, said Mother. They’re still trying to figure it all out. But we’ll have our own church and school and newspaper. We’ll call the place ‘New Iceland’.

I still don’t like the idea, said Helga as Mother pulled her hair tight, even if they do call it ‘New Iceland’.

It is our destiny, said Fridrika as she set down her book, and we just have to accept it.

This isn’t our destiny. It’s a curse!

Why would you say such a thing? said Mother.

Because it is a curse! A curse that Odin has given us for leaving our homeland.

Can’t you see how all the city people despise us?

They like us, said Fridrika.

They like our money, but you should hear what they call us behind our backs.

That’s not fair of them, said Mother. Others have left the island in the past few years.

And they call us traitors.

But what if we are the smart ones? said Fridrika.

They even have a saying: A bitter wind blew across our island. It blew away the worthless chaff, and left the golden wheat.

So we are chaff? said Josefina. How dare they! said Fridrika.

They are just jealous, said Mother. They are struggling, and we are headed to a beautiful new land.

So you say, mumbled Helga.

As long as all seven of us...

You mean eight, said Fridrika, patting Mother’s rounded belly. As long as all seven of us are together as a family, then we should be happy.

We’re happy, said Fridrika.

Josefina nodded in agreement.

There are a lot of good people leaving for Canada, said Mother. I thought all Islanders were good people, said Helga.

Oh, I wish that were true, said Mother. But I just met the nicest couple who are going to be traveling with us. They even gave me a loaf of bread that was hot out of the oven.

I love how Islanders care for each other, said Fridrika.

Is that the couple who have been married less than a year? said Helga.

Yes, said Mother. Thorstein and Amia.

I saw them down by the docks, said Fridrika, and they looked so much in love.

How romantic!

He is smitten, said Mother.

Someday I hope to find a man who is smitten with me, said Helga.

You will, smiled Mother. Have you written anything lately?

Only one poem, she said shyly. And that was about a month ago.

Only one? said Mother.

Didn’t Grandfather Tomas say that you could only write when the muses inspire you?

Something like that.

Did you write in the notebook Asgeir and I gave you?

Of course, I did.

Read it to us, begged Josefina.

Someday, she smiled as she stared into the distance. But I’m not quite ready to expose my heart to the masses.

Mother smiled.

We’re back, said Papa. They’ve already started tendering the horses to the ship. And passengers are crowding the docks.

But it’s not even 8:30, said Mother.

I suppose people are just anxious to board and get the best spots, said Papa. How close to ready are you?

Mother looked at her three girls, and said, We’re ready.

Then let’s go, said Papa, motioning to Asgeir.

The two men lifted the second trunk and led the way into the foggy street. The family followed.

Akureyri was the largest town they had seen, though it was located on a sandbar no bigger than the smallest pasture back on the farm. In this fishing village on a sheltered harbor surrounded by potato fields, Norsemen braved the sea in hand-crafted boats to supply the island with Atlantic cod and summer herring.

The family walked along the crowded streets, past the tall, wooden church they’d attended faithfully since coming to town. Further along was a row of one-story houses with flower pots in their front windows between curtains of white muslin. As they approached the docks, they passed warehouses and shops and many small public houses advertising beers and ales.

At the docks Papa set down the trunk next to the first one. The family was greeted by cousins and friends they had made since their arrival. And soon everybody was engaged in conversations about their anxiety or excitement about the coming trip.

So what do we do now? Mother sat down to rest on one of the trunks.

We wait, said Papa.

I thought that’s what we’ve been doing for the past month, said Fridrika who pulled out her book.

They said we’d start boarding at 9:30, but apparently they’re way behind schedule. They still haven’t offloaded the coal and salt they brought to port. And they only have half the horses onboard. We’re stuck here until those two tasks get done.