Almost a century before the Declaration of Independence and the American Revolution, a small party of French travelers visited an area that would later become known as Minnesota and Wisconsin. The party spent two years traveling by canoe and foot, meeting with Native Americans and seeing places never before beheld by Europeans. Little is known of the expedition, but recent research presents a possible new clue about their travels.
A chunk of sandstone with a name and year carved into it, found on the forest floor in remote eastern Pine County, Minnesota, has fascinated and befuddled archaeologists ever since it was first reported more than 50 years ago. Now, a professional archaeologist has carefully studied the stone and says there is strong possibility that it’s a genuine relic of that 1679-1680 expedition.
The story starts one November day in the mid-1960s, when a Ukrainian immigrant named Nick Worobel was deer hunting in some woodlands he had bought as tax forfeit. Not seeing any deer, he noticed carvings on the rock he was sitting on. Scraping away lichen and dirt, Worobel revealed the inscription as “DU LUTH 1679.”
If the rock was in fact carved by Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Luth, a minor French noble who led the brief but consequential visit to the area in the 17th century, it would be an important artifact of a historical figure who left scant documentation. This lonely rock could fill in gaping holes in the history of his trip, and provide clues to his route, the people he met, and his goals during the onset of massive change in the region.
But in Minnesota archaeology, old rocks bearing strange inscriptions trigger significant skepticism. The Kensington Rune Stone is always in mind, a slab of rock covered in faux Nordic inscriptions “found” in western Minnesota in 1898, purported to describe a visit to the area by Vikings in 1362. The stone was revealed as a hoax by the first scientists to study it and repeatedly in the intervening years, but has long lingered in the collective imagination.
Sensitivity to such stories is one reason the Pine County rock was probably dismissed by most archaeologists over the past five decades. There were those who wanted to investigate, but limited resources meant other sites took priority. In 1981, Doug Birk, a prominent researcher of the fur trade and French exploration in Minnesota, spoke to Worobel, and later visited the site to document some basic details. Thirty years after that, another of the state’s leading archaeologists, David Mather, returned for several visits.
Now, thanks to this work, there is a detailed analysis of the site and its authenticity. Mather, who serves as an archaeologist for the Minnesota State Historic Preservation Office, published a lengthy description and discussion of the “Du Luth Stone” in the most recent volume of “The Minnesota Archaeologist,” the journal of the Minnesota Archaeological Society. Exploring the many layers of history around the story of this stone, Mather started out his inquiry with the assumption the inscription was fake — but ultimately concluded it is likely authentic.
“Considering these broad historic contexts, I believe that it is most probable that the Du Luth Stone is a genuine artifact,” he writes. That’s not to say it is definitively authentic, but that Mather thinks there’s a pretty good chance. “Considering the inscription as authentic and connected to Du Luth’s 1679 exploration seems far more plausible [than any other explanation].”
Previous experts who considered the stone had not declared it be a hoax, rather concluding it could be either real or fake, and that it would be very hard to conclusively determine the truth. Mather’s extensive research has tilted the scale toward its authenticity.
Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Luth, traveled through what would become Minnesota and Wisconsin in 1679 and 1680 with a party of Frenchmen and Native Americans, supposedly seeking to make peace between Indigenous nations, “claiming” their lands for France, developing relationships for future trade, and looking for a route to the Pacific. He was also accused of illegally trading with Native Americans, a serious charge and one he strenuously denied. Much later, the city of Duluth would be named in his honor.
Over his two years in the region, there were multiple opportunities when Du Luth could have passed near the stone and carved his name in it. The Frenchman left scant records of his travels or timeline, and thus there are wide windows regarding where he went and when. But the few details known about when and where he traveled offer hints of four times and places when he may have inscribed the rock.
It’s believed Du Luth wintered in 1678-1679 near Sault Ste. Marie, between Lake Huron and Lake Superior, an important settlement for the Ojibwe people that only a few Frenchmen had visited before. Once spring came, he proceeded to the western end of the lake. He met Dakota people near present-day Duluth, a tribe which had previously been almost entirely uncontacted by Europeans. After negotiating a treaty between the Dakota and Ojibwe, Du Luth traveled to the Dakota’s largest settlement, a complex of villages surrounding what is now called Lake Mille Lacs.
It was on the journey from Lake Superior to Mille Lacs that Du Luth may have had his first chance to carve his name and the year. He provided no information about his route on this leg of the journey but it is possible he took a southerly route past the stone’s location. It’s also possible he went up the St. Louis River to the Savanna Portage and from there to Mille Lacs. A third possibility is some other unguessable route.
However he got to Mille Lacs, Du Luth precisely documented the date he claimed this country for King Louis XIV.
“On the second of July, 1679, I had the honor to set up the arms of his Majesty in the great village of the Nadouecioux called Izatys, where no Frenchman had ever been,” he wrote.
Du Luth was referring to the people who would come to be called the Sioux and are now called the Dakota in the English language. The village we today call Isanti is also the name of the group of the Dakota people who lived in this transition zone between the Great Plains and the eastern forest: the Santee. These eastern Dakota people represented the western front of the Dakota Nation’s territory across the northern plains, with Ojibwe people, who Du Luth called Assenipoulaks, slowly pushing west.
Click the arrows above to scroll through maps showing Du Luth’s travels.
Two months after flying the French flag at Mille Lacs, Du Luth was back at the tip of Lake Superior, where he negotiated a peace between the Dakota and another tribe.
”On the 15th of September, having made with the Assenipoulaks and all the other nations of the North a rendezvous at the extremity of Lake Superior to cause them to make peace with the Nadouecioux, their common enemy, they all appeared there,” he wrote.
Once again, he may have passed by the stone’s location on that journey from Mille Lacs to Superior, perhaps following a different course than his earlier trip, trying to see and claim more of the country.
Historian Warren Upham surmised in a 1908 history of Minnesota that Du Luth may have gone via the St. Louis and Savanna Rivers, or “passed one way by land, following trails noted by Brower, from Lake Superior to the St. Croix and past the headwaters of the Kettle, Snake, and Rice rivers, to the northeast shore of Mille Lacs. On this land route he would probably visit the Songaskitons, the Dog or Wolf tribe, who likewise are mentioned both by Du Luth and Hennepin, living perhaps in the vicinity of Moose and Sturgeon lakes, as we may infer from their position on Franquelin’s map, or perhaps Du Luth came to them by a southward detour, to the vicinity of Cross and Pokegama lakes, on the lower part of the Snake river.”
Either of those routes could have brought him near the location of the stone. Mather and other archaeologists also believe it’s possible Du Luth was exploring the extent of the Lake Superior and St. Croix watersheds, as the stone is located within several miles of the height of land that separates the two drainages.
An additional possibility is that Du Luth was following long-established footpaths that crossed the region. The stone is about a dozen miles from a Native American settlement called Aazhoomog, which means “crossroads” in the Ojibwe language, because the village is located where several important trails once met. Those trails were used by the Dakota before the Ojibwe moved into the area, and included a path that came south from Lake Superior, and one that ran west to Mille Lacs. If Du Luth was traveling with Dakota guides, they may well have brought him this way.
However he got back to Lake Superior, the peace summit was successful. Du Luth achieved a significant win for the French, who wanted the tribes to stop their fighting so the Europeans could trade for furs in safety. The Ojibwe, Dakota, and other tribes in the area lived alongside each other more peacefully for several decades afterwards, though it seems to have taken constant diplomacy and occasionally failed to prevent violence.
Du Luth secured the peace over the winter, with many months and miles summarized as simply: “During the following winter, I caused them to hold meetings in the forest, at which I was present, in order to hunt together, feast, and thus draw closer the bonds of friendship.”
He gave no explanation of where in the region’s vast forests he went, but perhaps it included a knoll near the Kettle River. It would probably have to have been in the fall, before snow covered such rocks and while the year was still 1679.
When June 1680 came, Du Luth said he was unsatisfied with progress so far, not in regards to diplomacy but his “exploration by land.” He also wanted to try finding a route to the Pacific Ocean, which was a major objective of the French and other colonial powers, possibly more so than the furs and other resources they wished to extract from this land. With a small party of Frenchmen and a Native American interpreter, Du Luth canoed about eight leagues (30 miles) along the south shore of Superior to the mouth of the Brule River, and then headed upstream: south to the Mississippi River, by way of the St. Croix.
It presented perhaps one last chance to pass by this out-of-the-way rock.
Du Luth’s first words about the Brule could be read to convey exasperation: “after having cut down some trees and broken through about one hundred beaver dams, I went up the said river.” Perhaps there were approximately a hundred beaver dams, or perhaps it only felt like that. The mosquitoes were probably abundant.
Following a route that had been used for thousands of years, Du Luth and his crew ascended the Brule from Lake Superior some 30 miles to its source. They then carried their canoes over an ancient portage trail, and arrived at Upper St. Croix Lake, the headwaters of the St. Croix River.
Du Luth accounted for the portage and the entire 170-mile St. Croix descent with 25 words, not even a complete sentence: ”made a carry of half a league to reach a lake, which emptied into a fine river, which brought me to the Mississippi.” (Notably, he did use one of those words to say the St. Croix was “fine.”)
The upper St. Croix River is a dozen miles or so from the stone, and it’s possible Du Luth stopped on his trip downstream and walked cross country to explore and claim this country. But, as he had already spent significant time in the area and had other more logical opportunities to etch his name, and because he now seemed bent on finding the Mississippi and perhaps following it to the western sea, it seems less likely that he made his mark on this trip south. The year would be wrong, too, unless he was backdating it for ownership by the crown. Unlikely, but like so much else about the stone, possible.
After descending the St. Croix, the French party met a group of Dakota people, who reported that some Frenchmen from another expedition, who had crossed southern Wisconsin to reach the Mississippi, had been taken captive by a group of Dakota and taken to Mille Lacs. Du Luth set off after them, and secured the release of Father Louis Hennepin, who had earlier that year been the first European to visit St. Anthony Falls, the future site of Minneapolis. After lingering several weeks at Mille Lacs (when it’s possible Du Luth wandered the countryside some more), the group set back off for the French colony, following a route drawn for them by a Dakota leader, going down the Mississippi and then crossing to Lake Michigan by way of other rivers.
Du Luth spent the following several years going back and forth between Paris, Montreal, and the frontier. In 1683, he visited the area again, setting up a small post on upper St. Croix Lake to deal in the fur trade passing over the Brule-St. Croix portage. He died in Montreal in 1710.
There are still plenty of reasons to be skeptical of the Du Luth Stone, from the spelling of the name to the obscurity of the location and much more. Mather has systematically evaluated many of the major questions, and come up with compelling information and analysis.
The spelling is one key criticism and concern expressed by earlier archaeologists. Du Luth’s name has been spelled in many ways over the years, particularly the final part. Often written about over the intervening centuries, his name has morphed into many forms, but he seemed to have had his own way of writing it.
This was raised in a 1997 letter written by then state archaeologist Scott Anfinson about his and Birk’s thoughts on the spelling dilemma.
“Most of all, [Birk] is bothered by the spelling of Duluth; the original spelling used by the explorer is ‘Dul Hut,’” Anfinson wrote.
But Mather points out that the explorer himself spelled it “du Luth” in the title of his report, and his contemporary, Father Hennepin, with whom he traveled for several months, also wrote it “Du Luth.” Mather gives the title of his 1685 report as: “Memoire du Sr. Daniel Greyselon du Luth sur la Décuuerte du pays des Nadouecioux dans le Canada, dont il fait une Relation tres detaillée, 1685” (emphasis added).
Mather concludes that the spelling used on the stone “is within the range of spellings historically known for Du Luth.” It’s not a reason to rule out the stone’s authenticity.
Mather also counters most other possible explanations for the stone, running through the history of the land since Du Luth’s visit. It was logged extensively in the mid 1800s, with numerous lumber camps found within a few miles. But those camps and their occupants left little trace.
“The most intensive activity in the vicinity of the stone was in the logging days,” Mather writes. “The loggers did not create monuments of their own, and would seem to have little reason to create a fake one for someone else.” The surrounding area was largely settled by Scandinavian immigrants, who “got on with establishing their lives without, apparently, dwelling on the history of the early French fur trade two centuries before.”
The city of Duluth was not given that name until 1855, and there were some events and monuments to honor the occasion. But those activities were focused on the location of the city itself, the explorer’s story was little known, and it again seems an unlikely reason to carve a name on a stone in the middle of the forest 50 miles to the southwest.
Mather also compares the Du Luth stone to the type of hoax “artifacts” that were sometimes publicized in the nineteenth century. The Kensington Rune Stone was one of the most famous examples of a minor trend. But where the Kensington story was vigorously promoted by the stone’s “finder,” the Du Luth Stone was found by someone who claimed to know nothing about Du Luth and spoke little English, and nobody involved in its discovery ever sought to promote or profit from it.
Meanwhile, Mather has provided other historical context supporting the possibility Du Luth carved the inscription. He found multiple examples of European explorers and travelers leaving markers of different sorts. Seventy years after Du Luth’s visit, French soldiers claimed land along the Ohio River for France with inscribed lead plates planted along their route and, in 1830, French cartographer Joseph Nicollet carved an inscription at a pipestone quarry in southwestern Minnesota.
“If it was intended as a monument, it was a personal one to Du Luth and his party, marking a location where they had been,” Mather writes. “It may have also been intended as a message to other explorers, showing that Du Luth was there first.”
Another piece of compelling evidence for the stone’s authenticity is its aged appearance. Mather went so far as to visit a cemetery near the Du Luth Stone and inspect monuments that had been carved from the same Hinckley Sandstone, at least one of which was inscribed as early as 1927. The Du Luth stone carving was “clearly much more weathered.”
“For one thing, the inscription is clearly ‘old,’ with obvious weathering, lichen growth and antique script,” Mather writes. “While the script could certainly be faked, the first two traits would be impossible, or at least extremely difficult, to mimic. Also, in my opinion, the stone’s remote landscape position and historical obscurity further argue against it being a forgery.”
There is one more intriguing detail about the Du Luth Stone. When Nick Worobel told his neighbor, an older Scandinavian immigrant farmer named Almer Ecklund, that he had found the stone, the farmer said he knew of it, and then there was a little confusion. It turns out Ecklund was talking about a different stone in the area which he said bore the same inscription.
The location of that stone was lost when Ecklund died in 1977 and has not been refound. But if it too exists and is authentic, it would reinforce the idea that Du Luth may have left markers across his journeys, and perhaps there are even more such stones yet to be found.
“If it is an exploration monument, as seems likely, it was probably not the only one,” Mather writes.
While Mather has added important new information and context to the Du Luth Stone, much work remains to be done. It’s still impossible to say exactly who carved the known stone and when, and whether it was Du Luth and his party or some later prankster.
Mather concluded his recent article with recommendations to seek more information, from broad surveys to a small dig. Surveying the wider area for more stones would be a useful step, Mather believes. If the other reported stone nearby could be confirmed, it would add more context and increase the significance.
Mather also says an archaeological excavation of the area around the stone would be worthwhile, but he cautioned that the absence of any artifacts wouldn’t necessarily mean the stone is fake. If Du Luth carved the stone, it’s possible he was there a very short time. There might not have been any trace of the visit left behind, especially that would last more than three centuries.
“Even if they camped there overnight, archaeological evidence of their stay would be slim, and the odds of finding a diagnostic artifact unlikely,” Mather writes. Nonetheless, he said he hoped such an excavation could take place if the landowners agreed.
There are still many unknowns about Du Luth’s travels and the stone the that bears his name. It’s an intriguing object no matter its origin. Is it a 350-year-old message from the past? Is it a hoax? Whatever the answer, thanks to Mather and others’ research, we’ve gained more insight into the early years of European exploration in the region.
References
Mather, David. “1679 or Not? Historic Contexts of the Du Luth Inscription.” The Minnesota Archaeologist 81, 2024: 113–37. (Available as a PDF on St. Croix 360 courtesy David Mather and the Minnesota Archaeological Society)
Sieur Duluth, Daniel Greysolon. Memoir on the Sioux Country, 1678-1682, 1685.
Upham, Warren. Minnesota in Three Centuries, 1655-1908, 1908.
Marshall, Albert M. Brule Country. St. Paul: North Central Publishing Co., 1954.
Isura Andrus-Juneau. “Daniel Greysolon Du Lhut: Coureur de Bois.” The Wisconsin Magazine of History 24, no. 4 (1941): 425–29.
Williamson, Thomas S. Sieur Du Luth : The Explorer between Mille Lacs and Lake Superior. St. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society, 1872.
Backerud, Thomas K. “Greysolon, Daniel, Sieur Du Lhut (c.1639–1710).” Minnesota Historical Society, 2013. April 15. https://www.mnopedia.org/person/greysolon-daniel-sieur-du-lhut-c1639-1710.
“Lake Lena, Minnesota.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Lena,_Minnesota.
Neill, Edward D. The History of Minnesota; from the Earliest French Explorations of the Present Time. St. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society, 1858.
Hennepin, Louis. A New Discovery of a Vast Country in America, by Father Louis Hennepin. Reprinted from the Second London Issue of 1698, with Facsimiles of Original Title-Pages, Maps, and Illustrations, and the Addition of Introduction, Notes, and Index by Reuben Gold Thwaites. In Two Volumes. (Chicago: A.C. McClurg & Co., 1903). Volume 1.
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