My Newest Book - Just Released!

My newest book is now available on Amazon! Set in the Icelandic peninsula of Snæfell, this adventure story is written for young adult but can be enjoyed by readers of all ages.

Finna has lost her father in a horrible shipwreck and now her Great-grandfather is missing. Using clues from hidden papers written with a secret code, Finna and her twin brother Erik and their best friend Kalli set out to solve the mystery. They follow the trail from the Snæfell Mountain to a cavern under the Icelandic glacier and through a mysterious vortex. Along the way, they encounter strange and terrifying creatures, Nordic gods and an alien civilization.
After her brother and best friend are kidnapped, Finna finds she must use her archery expertise, an ancient artifact and all her courage to save them and an entire planet. The fate of the alien world and the future of Earth depend on her true aim!

Order your copy from Amazon today: https://www.amazon.com/Silver-Arrow-%C3%8Deda-J%C3%B3nasd%C3%B3ttir-Herman/dp/1535203625/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1468799387&sr=8-3&keywords=ieda+herman

Stranded on a Glacier; Continued

In wide-eyed shock, they watched the other end of the rope slither out of sight.
"Don't move, Kalli." Erik shouted as Kalli tried to get up. Grabbing his ice-axe, Erik hammered a piton into the ice, then secured the severed rope with a figure eight knot. Slowly, Kalli pulled himself upright with the rope and stumbled away from the edge of the rift.
"Did you hear a shout, Kalli?" Erik leaned forward - then he disappeared with a blood-curdling scream!
Kalli was stunned. Then he again was yanked off his feet, but the piton held the rope tight. Heart hammering, frantically yelling for his friend he carefully crawled, following the rope. Easing closer to the edge he could see Erik, his feet dangling in the air over a dark, bottomless pit.
"Are you okay?" Kalli asked, with a trembling voice.
"Yeah, I'm alright." Planting his feet against the wall of ice Erik pulled himself up by the rope, hand over- hand, until he reached the top and to his ashen-faced friend.
"What a Troll-hole! That was my scariest moment ever. But Kalli, I think I saw how we can get across. And I'm sure I heard Max or Nonni cry for help. We've got to get to them in case there's another tremor."
Cautiously, Erik crept along the edge of the chasm, with Kalli following closely.
"That's what I saw." Kalli pointed at massive slabs of ice that had heaped up and formed a bridge of sort across the deep crevasse.
"That's crazy! I'm not going down there, Erik.No way, man." Kalli shuddered.
"We don't have a choice, Kalli. No one will look for us until Monday, and our phones don't work up here, besides they may be hurt, we have to do something." Erik looked at his white-faced friend. "I know what; let's hammer a piton into the ice here and retie the rope, that will get me enough to get down.You brace one foot on the piton and hold the rope tight, then play it out as I climb down." Erik crawled to the edge and eased himself over. "I'll yell when I reach the slab..."
"Okay, I'm down. Come on, I'm holding the rope taut. It's easier than it looks from above." Erik shouted, trying to ease his friends' obvious dread.
Although going across the icy 'bridge' was nerve-wracking it wasn't as difficult as they had feared. They were able to squeeze between large boulders until they reached the ice wall on the other side.
"Listen." Erik grabbed Kalli's arm.
"Help, help." Max and Nonni were both shouting in cracked, quavering voice that echoed eerily from the split.
"Hold on, we're coming." Erik and Kalli yelled as they quickly scrambled to the top. Hurrying to much they both started slipping, Erik hammered his last piton into the ice and uncoiled the rope from his shoulder. After securing the rope they crept carefully to the rim of the fissure and peered into the crack. Max and Nonni were hunched forward, rocking back and forth. Mr. Peterson was laying still, his right leg turned weirdly.
"Hello".Erik said softly.
Staring up, Max and Nonni stammered, "You...you're alive." Then yelled; "You're alive, hey Mr. Peterson, Erik and Kalli are alive." Their leader just groaned.
"I hope you have your rope, Erik, our gear disappeared. We're alright but Peterson is hurt." Nonni's voice trembled.
"Yeah, I have it. I'm going to throw it down to you, tie it under his arms, then as we pull you two lift."
After their semi-conscious leader was pulled up, the other two were pulled up to safety.
"We've got to figure out how to get him quickly off this glacier," Erik muttered.
"But how? Hey, we'd better move, that chunk of ice is inching our way." Max pointed.
"That's it! " Erik took his ice-axe and walked over to the slab. "Kalli, you have two pitons left, drive one in on each side of this ice-block, then fasten the rope to the rings, which will give us a loop for you Nonni, and Max, to hold and stop the slide." The boys watched in amazement as Erik feverously chopped away at the ice and a sled took shape.
"Wow, I didn't know you knew how to do that." Max exclaimed.
" I was taught in survival training in Boy Scouts. It's no beauty, but it'll do." Erik motioned for the boys to lift Mr. Peterson on top of the ice-sled. As Max and Nonni held the rope, Erik and Kalli pushed. Slowly the sled started gliding down the glacier.

Crash.
Erik and Kalli turned at the sound and saw their ice-island tumble down like an avalanche and disappear. With grinding and screeching the fissure crashed shut.


Glossary

VATNAJÖKULL...Glaciers of Waters...The largest glacier in Iceland, and Europe.

DUKW...Popularly pronounced ''Duck'' is a six-wheel-drive amphibious truck used during World War II to transport goods and troops over land and water.

PITON...(Pronounced Pee´ton) is a steel spike driven into ice, or rock to aid in climbing. Pitons are equipped with an eyehole or a ring, to which rope can be attached.

STRANDED ON A GLACIER.

Wow, camping on Iceland's biggest glacier. Erik's camping gear thumped on his back as he loped down the lane where his three friends and their leader waited.

"Hi, Mr. Peterson. Hey Max, Nonni." Erik greeted them as he swung his backpack into the hydrogen-powered SUV. Sliding into a seat he jostled with his best friend, Kalli.

The two, fourteen-year-old boys, had been friends since they were six and shared many adventures exploring their remote country. Erik's fiery-red hair had earned him his nickname "Erik the Red." He didn't mind at all but proudly proclaimed that was was a descendant of the Viking, Erik The Red.

After two hours of bone-cracking, teeth-jarring drive over rough lava terrain, they reached the foothills of the glacier, Vatnajökull. Stark, barren and grey-black from blowing volcanic sand the glacier towered toward the sky. Anticipation and excitement surged through Erik. He turned and saw Kalli grinning at Max and Nonni who were gaping at enormous ice boulders stacked on top of each other.

Seeing the looks on the two boys' faces Mr. Peterson chuckled. "This isn't as bad as it looks. We'll be on a short hiking path, and then we'll be on the ice. We'll need to put crampons on now, grab our gear and get started."

"Yeah, let's go." The boys hollered. Puffing and panting the group reached a black, basalt boulder. Removing their backpacks the boys sank down groaning and rubbing their shoulders and necks.

"You guys did well. This was a long climb." Their leader complimented them. "We'll rest here a bit," he continued, "and then we'll hike to that ice-topped rock up ahead. Looks like there's an ice cave next to it. We'll check it out for a possible campsite."

"Camping in an ice cave, how cool is that." Nonni and Max shouted exuberantly.

"Speaking of cool." Kalli hopped up then rubbed his hands on the boulder where he'd been sitting. "It's ice-cold but this rock feels quite warm."

Mr. Peterson walked over. "Yes, the rock is warm, but I don't see any melting snow on the ground around it. I don't think we need to be concerned."

"Getting spooked by the Trolls?" Max and Nonni hooted. "Forgetting you're an Icelander? We have these hot-spots everywhere." But an eerie tingle oozed down Erik's spine as he glanced at Kalli.

"Okay boys, let's move." Mr. Peterson cheerfully called out.

As they reached the glacier their leader uncoiled a rope from his shoulder and tied the boys in line, behind himself, three feet apart, first Max, then Nonni, next Kalli with Erik last.

"Walk in, or close to, my footsteps while I check for any rifts or cracks that may be under this layer of snow." Mr. Peterson hacked the ice with his ice-axe then motioned for the boys to start following.

Far below, Erik saw the DUKW (duck), a six-wheel-drive amphibious truck, take tourists out on Lake Glacier. The lake was mirror-smooth, reflecting huge ice boulders. Thick, white, fluffy clouds floated lazily in the grey-blue sky. Perfect day.

Suddenly a crashing sound filled the air as an earthquake tremor rippled across the ice field. Frantically, Mr. Peterson hammered a piton into the ice. He had just fastened the rope when another jolt rumbled across the glacier. Erik and Kalli stared, terrified, as their leader, Max and Nonni disappeared into an opening in the ice, their frantic cries echoing in the air.

The rope yanked Kalli to his knees and he started to slide to the edge of a split that was slowly opening all around them. Desperately, Erik dug in his cleats  just as a saber-shaped chunk of ice careened down and severed the rope. They were stranded on a tall, chimney-shaped isle of ice! 

They stood frozen with fright as fear, like an icy blanket, covered them....

A WWII Love Story.

Father's Day...Bittersweet memories of the father of my ten wonderful kids. Del and I had been married almost 70 years when he went to his heavenly home last February 26th. He had preached about that home for over 50 years, having been a Pastor/builder of  several churches in Central Illinois.

I started reminiscing about the war years and wondered about other "war brides." I would like to be able to get in touch with some of them and know their stories and how it was for them to adapt to a totally different environment.

We met in Iceland in 1944 during WWII, he was in the United States Navy. I had been asked my couple of girlfriends to go to a USO dance. This handsome Sailor, with a big smile, came up to me.
 "Dance?" He said something else that I didn't understand. I shook my head. He said "please"? Something about that plea and his soft hazel eyes made my  heart do a flip-flop. These were difficult times, no one knew who would come back when sent on a mission; ships were torpedoed, airplanes were shot down and many service men were losing their lives.
"Okay." I knew that word; it was as universal as "Coca-Cola." As we danced that evening it was like we'd been hit by a bolt of lightening! No need for words just looks and - for me anyway - silly smiles.
We met again at the dance hall the next evening, and as we danced he asked me to marry him. I looked at him, thinking I knew what he was asking, but not quite sure. Del asked again, taking my left hand and acting like he was putting a ring on my finger. Then I knew, and said "yes." We were serious! The next day we told Mother.
"YOU WANT TO DO WHAT" My soft-spoken, easy going, Mother shouted!This was not good. My Mother never raised her voice; not at us kids, not at my Father, no one. And now she had really raised her voice!
"Herman and I want to get married. " I repeated. (Later, in my family Del was always called Hermann.)
Mother had her face buried in both hands, rocking from side to side.She was quiet for a moment then she looked up, wide-eyed shock still on her face.
'' Íedamín, will Herman live in Iceland? Or, heaven forbid are you going to move to Amerika? Do you realize how far it is? We don´t know anything about is family. We don't even know what part of the country he is from. It´s a huge country. You could get lost, then what?´´ Mother nervously twisted her fingers, then dabbed at her eyes with a hankie.
Del had been holding my hand and trying to follow a conversation he couldn´t understand.He didn´t speak Icelandic and my Mother didn´t speak English.My English was not a whole lot better; we got by with hugging, kissing and holding hands! Del squeezed my hand. He could see that this wasn't going as well as we had hoped.
I said something like, "You home Amerika?" He looked at me a little puzzled. I tried again. "You Mamma, home, Amerika?"
Del smiled that great smile of his and said "Chicago."
Mother about fell off the sofa, gasping. "Chi-ka-ga? Gangstar Chi-ka-ga?!?"  It didn't come out "gangster" but close enough. We had some explaining to do and it wasn't going to be easy!
There had been a ban of marriages between U.S. Service men and Icelandic women but Del tackled the powers that be, wearing down layers of authorities by unwavering persistence got the ban lifted and was the first U.S. Serviceman to marry after.
Eventually, my parents accepted the situation and we were married March 25th. 1945 in the Dómkirkjan, Reykjavik
As time went on I learned more English words and tried to teach Del Icelandic, without much success. We took walks hand in hand around the lake in the center of downtown Reykjavik. Del would point and say "water" I´d say "vatn". He would say "birds" I´d say "fuglar". Although he couldn´t get THOSE pronunciations he did quite well with the words "Elska mín", translated "My love".
Coming from totally different worlds as we did, I did have fleeting doubt, and then pushed it away, I was in love.

From my Memoir GROWING UP VIKING, Fond Memories of Iceland..

PHENAWSOME ICELAND.

Me and my daughters at Vestmannaeyar

Iceland is an island only 39,769 square miles (about the same size as the country of Portugal or the US State of Kentucky), but has about 30 active volcanoes. One of the  most recent ones erupted in '63, spewed right up from the ocean floor and became an island.  It was aptly named Surtsey - after the fire giant Surtur.  In  '73,  just  stone-throw away, on the island of Vestmannaeyar, the town of Heimaey got a rude awakening in the middle of the night.  Right in the middle of town, a volcano erupted and created the newest mountain on Earth. They named it Eldfell.
In the Spring of 2010 Eyjafjallajökull erupted and, due to plumes of volcanic ash, caused airplanes to be grounded in 18 countries and more than 100,000 travellers affected for over a week.
And I must mention Bárðabúnga that erupted in August just three weeks after we left Iceland last year and kept belching up lava for several months. Earthquakes and tremors were not uncommon.

So, in this kind of surrealistic surroundings was I brought up...

Growing up I was fascinated by the Seagulls flying in the sky as if floating on an unseen ocean. How did the country look from way up there? How far could they see?  Were they looking at me looking at them?
                                             ---------------------------

Following is from my memoir, Trolls - Monster Worm - Hidden People...

"Hey look, Lilla, if we put flower sack over our arms we could fly just like those gulls up there." I squinted  my eyes to watch one bird standing on a large lava rock. I stomped my foot to see how he'd take off; spreading his wings wide he glided up into the air, feet tucked under his body. Gracefully swooping in a curve, he came for a landing on another rock a stone-throw away. I could see his webbed, yellow feet come down straight and watched as he hopped a bit before settling down.
"Did you see that? We can do that!" I hollered. "See? When we get on top of that shed, we'll put the sacks on our arms, spread our them out like wings and when we jump, pull up our knees and fly from one roof to the other. Come on, Lilla. Grandpa and Sisi will be here later. Let;s show them how we do this!"
I was already climbing on top of one of the sheds.
"No, no, come on down. The roof is shaking!" Lilla shrieked as small rocks began to rain down the cliff at the back of the sheds. I could feel the shed swaying and hear the clattering noise as the rocks pelted the corrugated sides. Frantically,  I scrambled down yelling, "Run Lilla, run, it's an earthquake, the trölls will be coming!'' Then both of us were running oddly,  like we were on the deck of a ship in a stormy gale. Reeling and weaving, we screamed hysterically "The trölls are coming, the trölls are coming!''

Kindle Format On Sale! Just 99¢ for a LIMITED TIME

I am very excited about my newest work in progress, The Silver Arrow.  This is a young adult adventure story based in Iceland with a science fiction twist.  My characters go on a quest that leads them into a surprising world that includes Odin and some other well-known Norse gods.  I'm expecting this new story to be available sometime later this Summer or Early Fall.  

In the meantime, am really looking forward to returning home to Iceland again this summer. I so enjoy re-living the memories of growing up in such a fantastic place.  I shared many recollections in my memoirs, but every year I find I remember more escapades of my childhood in this amazing and uniquely mysterious country, often called the Land of Fire and Ice. 

To celebrate another year of adventure, I am offering a special .99 price for the Kindle version of my memoirs, Trolls-Monster Worm-Hidden People: Fond Memories of Iceland.  I will only be able to offer this for a limited time, so please head to Amazon (click here) and download a copy today. 

I must rush off now - as you know I am "91 and on the run!"

Dance I Shall

Recently I read an interview with Iceland's oldest resident, 106-year-old Georg Olafsson. When asked what his secret to longevity was he replied "I haven't the faintest clue," but suspected it could be a mixture of healthy diet, hard labor and positive thinking.

That sound about right to me, growing up on that island, also called "The Land of Fire and Ice", our diet was pretty much fresh fish, homegrown potatoes, rutabaga and carrots and, on special occasion, smoked mutton. At age 91, I have come to believe a positive outlook is one of the keys to a long and happy life. I'm not so sure about the hard labor - although some may argue that raising ten children could qualify as "hard labor" - but I am absolutely for an active lifestyle. I like to think that after working all day (or a lifetime), it's time to dance.

Life can be a dance. I try to add a little dance to any activity. I don't sit and wait for the coffee to brew or warm up, I take those few minutes for a "microwave dance." Hopping from one foot to the other and swinging my arms to whatever happy tune comes to mind. It gets the blood flowing, keeps my mind sharp and a smile on my face. It might be a brisk march, a flowing waltz vacuuming the floor, or a little Cha-Cha between the washing machine and dryer during laundry. The more movements I do the better I feel. I should have started this years ago, but it's never to late!

Awhile back I was dog-sitting and noticed that whenever the pups got up, the first thing they did was to stretch. I decided this instinct might be a good thing, so I added stretching to my daily routine: Stretching side to side - stretch the arms out front - reach up to the sky (or the highest-up kitchen cabinet).Someone told me "planks" were good for the core muscles and helped with posture, so I added that to my routine, ending with the "canine" stretches. If a wall space is not available I use the refrigerator-door for my back as I do the "squat-position." And always start the day with a few sit-ups before bouncing out of bed!

This has kept me limber enough to go paragliding - cave exploring - river rafting - rock-wall climbing, and keep me looking for more adventures! People ask me what MY secret is...I say - "Whatever there is to do, do that thing!"

I don't think of myself as old - I am occasionally caught unaware when the realization of my chronological age hits me. I am honestly far to busy enjoying life to be limited by "acting my age."
At my age, at any age it's time to dance.
And dance I shall.