Just across the river from the southern Icelandic village of Hella, a set of remarkable man-made sandstone caves known as the Caves of Ægissíða (or Hella) lie beneath farmland. Their presence along the Ytri-Rangá river hints at a way of rural life that predates Iceland’s turf houses and stretches deep into the island’s past.
What makes these caves stand out is not only their age, but the uncertainty surrounding their origin. No one knows with certainty who first carved them or why. The most persistent local legend suggests they were dug before the Viking settlement, possibly by Irish monks known in Icelandic as “papar.” While sagas such as Landnámabók and Íslendingabók speak of these monks’ presence before Norse settlement around 874, no archaeological remains have confirmed these stories. Nevertheless, generations at Ægissíða have believed the caves are pre-Viking and connected to Celtic influence.
Farming, faith and sandstone shelter
Through the centuries these hand-dug chambers served very practical purposes. Icelandic farmers used the caves as barns, sheep sheds and stores for food. The porous sandstone made for suitable animal shelters and storage spaces in a landscape where turf houses required frequent rebuilding. Some of the earliest written references to Iceland’s man-made sand caves appear in Jarteinabækur Þorláks helga, a text from 1199. The story it records mentions cave-stored bulls, suggesting these shelters were already commonplace by the 12th century.
Of the more than 200 man-made caves in south Iceland, Ægissíða is unusual for their number in one place: twelve have been discovered so far, including new finds in the 21st century. The most famous is Fjóshellir, or Cow Shed Cave, notable for its size among Iceland’s sand caves and featuring an embossed cross of unknown origin on the wall. Another chamber, called Kirkjuhellir (“Church Cave”), once had a graceful rounded ceiling before water damage. Events and even religious masses have been held in the caves, with the poet-priest Matthías Jochumsson conducting service in Kirkjuhellir.
From local legend to national heritage
Interest in these enigmatic spaces is hardly new. Since at least the late 18th century, Icelandic writers, poets and historians have debated their purpose and creators. The lawyer-poet Einar Benediktsson championed the idea of an Irish monastic origin, while figures like Þórbergur Þórðarson and Matthías Þórðarson (director of the National Museum) questioned this claim, emphasising a lack of evidence for settlement before the Vikings.
The caves have long captured the imagination of both Icelanders and outsiders. In 1936, a Nazi academic institute visited, theorising the caves might once have housed pagan temples. Later, their storied atmosphere drew them into Icelandic crime novels and even served as a filming location for the Netflix series “Entrapped.”
Toward the late 20th century, the advent of concrete buildings made the caves redundant for farming, and many fell into neglect. In the 21st century, the descendants of Ægissíða led efforts to restore and protect these national heritage sites, working with archaeologists and gradually re-opening several caves to public access. Their restoration allows for a new chapter, layering fresh stories atop centuries of mystery and memory preserved in stone.
