Unique Discoveries in Raiskums
Tracing the Footsteps of the Bravest Latvians
If I’ve ever felt like a character in Dan Brown’s cult novel The Da Vinci Code, it was when I met historian Andris Geidāns—often called the founding figure of the knightly movement in Latvia—who, together with like-minded companions, is now focused on developing and refining cultural-historical tourism in Raiskums.
This is not a tale about the greatest conspiracy in our nation’s history. Rather, it’s a journey worthy of a Holy Grail quest—tracing the footsteps of one of the most courageous and least-known heroes in Latvian history: Rūsiņš. And more than that, it is a journey toward discovering one’s true self.
Much like Professor Robert Langdon, the Harvard symbologist in Dan Brown’s novels, Andris Geidāns unravels the untold chapters of our national history step by step—piecing together facts, events, and archaeological finds to form a completely new perspective on what we thought we knew. He creates a sense of intrigue that captivates even those who’ve never had any interest in history. After all, who can remember endless names, places, and dates? History is boring—right? Geidāns proves it’s anything but.
It’s no coincidence I mention The Da Vinci Code—not because Geidāns distorts facts, but because he presents history as one of the most thrilling and fascinating stories you’ll ever hear.
So our footsteps are not forgotten
Andris Geidāns has traveled nearly the entire world—he’s summoned the desert wind in Yemen, lived through a “Day of Rage” in Pakistan, embraced Islam as his faith, and discovered that the true church of a Latvian is the forest. There is something prophet-like in his voice and passionate manner of speech—something that demands a crowd of followers or at least a few “apostles” to immortalize his philosophy, ideas, worldview, and the long-forgotten values he embodies.
Geidāns possesses a rare curiosity, and nearly every place he sets foot is “devoured” by his research—examined and studied to its deepest historical roots. His knowledge is rich and diverse, from world religions to the culinary nuances of various peoples. But above all, what fascinates him most is the ancient history of his own land. Today, Geidāns and his companions in Raiskums offer engaging hikes designed to make history vivid, alive, and exciting.
It all began in 1997 with the founding of Latvia’s first historical reenactment group—the “Livonians” public organization, which became the foundation for the cooperative Historically Active in Raiskums. The goal of the Livonian movement was to preserve the educational, strategic, and cultural backbone for breathing life into history. The website vesturiskiaktivs.lv serves as a long-cultivated field of experience and the foundation for socially responsible tourism in the Raiskums region.
“So that our footsteps do not fade into oblivion, but instead become a historical contribution that helps history live and revive within us,” explains Geidāns.
Raiskums – The Cradle of the Latvian Nation
Raiskums is Geidāns’ homeland. His family name has appeared in the Cēsis region since the second half of the 15th century, and his mother’s lineage has lived in Raiskums since the 16th century.
“I have arrived at the place where my roots are deepest. That’s why I feel the spirit of this place in every cell of my body—it gives me enormous strength and energy. I melt in this interest,” says Geidāns.
In his presence, the Raiskums region comes alive—behind every hill lies a story, each stone hides a secret. Before you know it, you find yourself in the heart of historically significant events, brought to life by his storytelling. The historical facts, discoveries, and archaeological findings he and his colleagues have pieced together form a mosaic—how precise it is may be up for debate, but the arguments are powerful, visible, and even tangible.
Once just a scenic backdrop for the legendary film Limousine the Colour of Midsummer’s Eve, Raiskums transforms through Geidāns’ guidance into a landscape where crucial moments in the formation of the Latvian nation unfolded.
This land was once home to the Letts—or Latgalians—who, together with the Livs, form the roots of the Latvian people.
Traces of the Ancients
Miracles aren’t far off—near the Geidāns family home lie two ancient burial sites dating back over 500 years BCE. In 1897, during an archaeological expedition, a mysterious amber button was found here, whose function remains unknown due to its unusual shape.
Although the word Raiskums has no meaning in Latvian, it does in Estonian. The name, of Finno-Ugric origin, translates to “hill of the dead” or “carrion hill”—raisk meaning something vile or evil.
Historically, Raiskums referred not just to a village but to the territory stretching from Lake Raiskums to the Gauja River.
“So this ‘hill of the dead’ must lie somewhere in between,” suggests Geidāns. “There’s an old road here leading to the Gauja. I believe this was once the historic Beverīna Road connecting Imera and Beverīna. If, as many archaeologists think, Beverīna was located in Rauna, it makes sense that this road passed through here.”
The Quest for Rūsiņš
Geidāns’ greatest current mission is to find the burial site of Rūsiņš—the bravest of the ancient Letts. His residence was the Satēkle Castle, the exact location of which remains disputed. Rūsiņš was a prominent figure in the German expansion into Estonian lands but later turned against them and became a key player in the Latgalian resistance. According to the Chronicle of Henry of Livonia, he was “the bravest of the Letts”—a rare designation.
During the planning of the Thousand-Year Forest expedition, Geidāns and his companions discovered an ancient burial mound in the Dižmežs forest—an unusual formation that may hold someone of high status. Stone circles and carbon layers beneath the soil have confirmed the site’s significance. Excavations are scheduled for July.
“My theory is that this could be Rūsiņš’ final resting place,” says Geidāns. “The hill lay on the route to Imera, and even long after his death, Estonians—who had suffered greatly under him—may have called it the ‘hill of the dead.’”
Reviving Forgotten Heroes
Despite Rūsiņš’ historical importance, Latvian literature barely mentions him. Geidāns argues that political agendas shaped historical narratives, promoting figures like Namejs and Viestards—leaders from Semigallia—while ignoring the Letts, who didn’t neatly fit into the anti-German resistance storyline.
“The Letts’ greatest threats weren’t the Germans—they were the Estonians and the Russians,” Geidāns explains.
He believes Rūsiņš’ story would make a far more compelling series than yet another dramatization of Namejs.
The Lost Sword and the True Flag
Geidāns also offers a theory about the ancient national weapon of the Letts—the short sword, known in folklore as the trejasmens (three-blade). It featured three functional cutting edges and a fighting style unique to Latgalians.
This also explains the presence of large wrist guards on the left arms of Latgalian men—they needed full use of both arms in close combat.
“I feel a missionary calling to restore this weapon as a symbol of our people’s long journey through history,” he says.
He also suggests that the ancient Lettish flag—red with a white or silver stripe—may originally have had a diagonal line, symbolizing movement and the north-eastward journey of the Letts.
“A diagonal line gives the flag momentum. Right now, our flag lies flat. We need movement!” says Geidāns.
Learning Without Gadgets
“If history is to be taught today in a way that makes people listen, it must be outdoors, where we physically engage with objects, places, and events,” Geidāns insists.
During the Thousand-Year Forest hike, participants learn how to survive without gadgets—how to make fire, forage safely, understand physics-based survival, and live in harmony with nature. One of the greatest resources a person has, he explains, is energy.
He emphasizes that people today waste their energy—running marathons not because they must, but to prove something.
“Animals don’t run unless they have to. Neither should we,” he says. “We must learn to conserve and direct our energy properly.”
Participants are reminded of long-lost skills—like how to process an animal for food and what can safely be eaten in the wild.
“People arrive in the forest with all their urban ego. The first task is to shed the unnecessary and understand your place in the natural order,” Geidāns explains.
“The Chronicle of Henry” as a Path
The idea for In the Footsteps of the Chronicle of Henry came to Geidāns while reading the chronicle at his countryside home.
“The third part of the Chronicle is about Raiskums—then known as part of Idumea, inhabited by Letts and Livs. This is the very cradle of the Latvian ethnogenesis,” he says.
A two-day hike follows the events of the Chronicle exactly, with participants experiencing history physically—carrying bows, mail, and period gear, testing distances, terrain, and logic. Along the way, they try spear throwing, archery, fire-making—everything crucial to medieval survival.
The Royal Picnic – A Feast of the Land
The Royal Picnic is the pinnacle of outdoor leisure. It includes the best forest location, horseback rides, lake boating, archery, kokle music, goulash-making lessons, and fire-roasted fish. Desserts include fire-baked cakes and herbal teas.
“Guests are served the best that fire and the forest can offer,” says Geidāns. Everything is local—Raiskums bread, cheese, jam, beer, herbs, and produce. Each villager contributes their skills.
“Visitors find deep peace here for 4–5 hours—and for many, it’s the highlight of their summer.”
With 20 years of global guiding experience, Geidāns says this picnic draws on the best ideas from Yemen, Transylvania, and the Maya.
“When people feel at home in nature, they feel closest to themselves. Their minds and hearts are at peace,” he explains.
“From here, people leave better, stronger, and a step higher—and that is what socially responsible tourism truly means.”
Geidāns’ programs aren’t entertainment—they’re transformative experiences.
“If there’s no growth, we haven’t done our job,” he says.
“Only with complete commitment can we be truly responsible for the consequences of our work. Social responsibility is the single most important measure of the value—or the futility—of what we do.”
“If each of us did our small part with one hundred percent dedication, we would be living in paradise.”