You are hiking in Iceland, stop for a second to admire the view, without realizing you are standing on something. A house. At first, it just looks like a grassy mound, blending so well into the landscape that it seems like part of the earth itself. But beneath your feet, there could be walls made of stone and turf, a roof thick with grass, and maybe even a family inside, going about their day as if nothing is unusual.
Iceland’s turf houses have this way of disappearing into their surroundings, not because they are hidden, but because they are built with the land rather than against it.
Turf houses didn’t originate in Iceland—or even with the Vikings. But the Vikings played a key role in spreading and adapting this building style across the North Atlantic. The use of turf for insulation, however, was already common in Scandinavia before the Viking Age, especially in Norway.
When Vikings settled in Iceland, Greenland, the Faroe Islands, and parts of Scotland and Ireland, they brought these construction methods with them. Since many of these regions had limited forests, they relied on stone, driftwood, and thick layers of turf to create warm, durable homes that blended into the landscape.
Today, Iceland and the Faroe Islands have the most surviving examples of turf houses. In Iceland, they were widely used until the early 20th century, and many have been carefully preserved in places like Glaumbær, Keldur, or Laufás. The Faroe Islands also have turf-roofed houses, though modern homes have mostly taken over.
Norway still has some historic turf-covered farmhouses, especially in mountain areas and museums, but they are less common. In places like Greenland and Orkney, Viking-era turf houses remain mostly as archaeological sites rather than standing buildings.
Although modern construction has replaced turf houses for daily life, they remain an important cultural symbol in Iceland, the Faroe Islands, and Norway. In Iceland especially, they are a visible link to the past, showing how people built homes that worked with the land rather than against it.
Iceland’s traditional torfbæir have been around since the 9th century. Built using flat stones, driftwood, and thick layers of turf, these homes were designed to keep the cold out and warmth in. With long, dark winters and harsh weather, insulation was key. Since Iceland didn’t have an abundance of trees for building, early settlers turned to what was available—grass, soil, and stone—to create shelters that worked with the landscape.
Over time, the design of these houses changed. The earliest versions looked a lot like Viking longhouses, with one big communal space, but later they turned into groups of smaller, connected buildings. By the 18th century, the burstabær style became popular, where wooden gables at the ends of the houses gave them a more structured look.
Inside, the heart of the home was the baðstofa, the main living area where people ate, worked, and spent time together. Turf houses weren’t just about survival—they were homes in every sense of the word.
Today, modern houses have largely replaced turf homes, but you can still find them in museums and historical sites. The Árbær Open Air Museum in Reykjavík has a collection of restored turf buildings, letting visitors walk through history. Up north in Skagafjörður, Glaumbær is another well-preserved example, showing how these homes evolved over time. Even though most of them aren’t lived in anymore, they’re still a big part of Iceland’s identity.
Turf houses in Iceland aren’t just for people, though. According to folklore, elves—known as Huldufólk, or hidden people—also need homes, and many Icelanders make space for them. In gardens, parks, and even roadsides, you might spot tiny álfhól, or elf houses, built to keep the hidden people happy. Whether it’s tradition, superstition, or just a fun way to keep the stories alive, these miniature houses show how closely Icelandic culture is tied to nature and old beliefs. (More about Icelanders’ fascination with elves and elf homes here)
Turf houses may not be the way most Icelanders live anymore, but they haven’t disappeared. They sit quietly in the landscape, tucked into hillsides, covered in grass, blending into the land as if they’ve always been there. And in a way, they have.
Below are more fascinating examples of Iceland’s hobbit homes.
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Grafarkirkja Iceland instead of nearby Hofsos. I looked for it on Google Maps & it matches.