Why Iceland’s turf houses are the original Earth-friendly eco homes

One of the most natural things we humans can do surely is to live in, and amongst, nature. We know, of course, that even a simple walk in the forest can significantly boost our mood and mindset – even for just a few mere short minutes. A meander through a stretch of greenery can turn any frown – or bad day – swiftly around. But what if we took that green-living sentiment one step further, and truly enveloped ourselves, and every aspect of our lives, in Mother Nature. Well, that’s what Icelanders, or at least many of them, have been doing for centuries, embracing life amongst the elements in the form of homes known as turf houses, since the very first settlers arrived on the island in 870.

You might even recognise this style of earthen architecture from popular culture, consider Bilbo Baggins’ shire in the Hobbit. Tolkien was actually rumoured to have been inspired by the "torfbæir" of Iceland when he was envisaging his cosy, soil-topped Hobbit homes that so many readers have come to know and love. And for those who watched the Teletubbies as kids, the architectural feat of the gang’s grass-encased mounded home undoubtedly finds its roots in the cosy confines of the turf homes.

Though the "torfbæir" have since become sources of eco-inspiration to architects and set builders alike, Icelanders originally turned to this style of building out of necessity, finding themselves living in an increasingly inhospitable environment. With a harsh climate of tough terrain, barren landscapes, and heavy snowfall in winter, Iceland wasn’t necessarily the easiest place to set up home in the ninth century. Coupled with restricted access to natural resources, (Iceland was approximately 30 per cent woodland back in the ninth century, while today that’s down to roughly two per cent ) locals were forced to use whatever materials were available and energy efficient to both build, and heat, their homes.

“Here in Iceland, we have been building turf houses since the settlement,” explains Kristófer, guide at Skogar Museum. “They are all over the country.”

“There are many benefits to turf houses because they were basically just using whatever material they had around them. They would pile up the rocks to build up the walls; people would go to the beaches and find driftwood. And then they put the turf on top [of the roof] and that was to insulate the warmth inside. The idea was that the turf houses would naturally be warmed during the winters and cool during the summers.”

Inhabited by all classes of people, the turf houses were formed by stacking flat stones to create the foundation, and then using birch or timber to form the house structure, after which turf or stones were laid on top to create thick walls, as well as to cover the roof, sometimes with a slate underlay. And this straightforward building tradition of using nature’s resources has lived on right up until contemporary times.

“The idea of this place here is bringing this traditional Icelandic architecture style and celebrating the heritage of these houses,” says Sigurður H. Sig, managing director at Torfhús Retreat, which is a set of holiday homes in Selfoss, inspired by the architecture of an old Icelandic Viking farm. “They are beautiful houses, if you think about it, with the turf on the roofs and the rocks laid on the side.”

“And these houses were built in Iceland just out of necessity, because we don't have any real forest here. All the wood we had to build houses was mostly driftwood; what we had enough of was, of course, stones and turfs. So this [way of building] was also very good for Iceland, and other countries like the Faroe islands, where they also have these kinds of houses.”

Though many of the old torfbæir live on, reconstructed in open-air museum sites throughout the country, including Glaumbær farm, in Skagafjörður in North Iceland and at Keldur in South Iceland, the last ‘proper’ turf house dwellers only vacated their earthen dwellings in the ‘60s in Iceland. “My great grandfather was actually born in a turf house, so it was actually not that long ago – it's just a few generation gaps there,” explains Sig, who sourced all his materials locally in order to build Torfhús Retreat, using turf from nearby fields and stones from a mine five kilometres away.

And it’s not surprising that this style of using hyper-local materials to create a structure that blends in seamlessly to its surroundings has stuck around since the ninth century until today, given how the eco-conscience movement has been burgeoning. You can trace its architectural influence to modern housing projects beyond Scandinavia too, including the earth shelters of the ’70s and ’80s over in the US, when the oil crisis caused many to look for alternative, rustic means of living.

“You’ve got to work with what you’ve got,” Sig says. “The weather in Iceland can be quite rough, so I think it’s a really successful heritage. There are modern benefits now, if we look at all its insulating qualities. It doesn't let the heat out or let the heat in that easily. And also the sound insulation; you can be in the house, and there might be a snowstorm, but still, you can barely feel it because you can't really hear it.”

And plus, living amongst the soil offers certain other added benefits; ditching the modern, frenetic path and choosing the serenity of sodden earth above and below you. Think of it as taking the mindful practice of ‘Earthing’ to a whole new level. Sig agrees: “You're more connected to nature – having grass on your roof, rather than living in a city all your life. Having a house almost inside a hill, with everything green – it's just a really nice feeling.”