The Tölt That Stole My Heart

I will be honest with you. I did not go to Iceland in 2024 expecting to fall head over heels for a horse that barely reaches my shoulder. I went with my dad. I gave him the trip as a present, and we rented a van, chucked some sleeping bags in the back, and drove the Ring Road for a week. Just the two of us, sleeping in the van, cooking questionable meals on a tiny stove, and waking up to landscapes that looked like they belonged on another planet. That is where I fell in love with the horses.

This was actually my second time in Iceland. The first was back in 2017, when I visited with my wife and our little one. That trip was magical in its own way. Family adventures, wide-eyed wonder, the whole lot. But returning in 2024 with my dad, just the two of us in a van, sleeping under the stars and waking up to fields of horses? That was something else entirely.

If you have never met an Icelandic horse, you are in for a treat. And if you have, you are probably already nodding along.

Not a Pony, Thank You Very Much

First things first: they are horses, not ponies. I learned this rather quickly when I made the mistake of calling one “adorably pony-sized” within earshot of a local farmer. He looked at me the way one might look at a tourist who has just suggested putting pineapple on a traditional Icelandic lamb stew.

They stand between 13 and 14 hands, which by most standards would indeed make them ponies. But Icelanders are fiercely protective of their status as horses, and honestly? Spend five minutes with one and you will understand why. They have got the spirit, the stamina, and quite frankly the attitude of horses three times their size. They are compact, powerful, and built like little Viking tanks.

The Five Gaits and That Glorious Tölt

Here is where things get properly exciting. Most horses walk, trot, canter, and gallop. Icelandic horses do all of that, plus one extra party trick: the tölt.

Oh, the tölt.

Imagine sitting in the comfiest armchair you own, having a nice cup of tea, while your horse moves beneath you at a brisk pace without so much as jiggling your biscuit. That is the tölt. It is a four-beat lateral gait where there is always at least one hoof on the ground, meaning there is no moment of suspension. No bounce, no bump, just this impossibly smooth, flowing motion that feels like you are gliding.

I tried it for the first time on a drizzly Tuesday morning during our van trip, and I actually laughed out loud. It felt like cheating. Like I had discovered a secret setting on a horse that nobody had told me about. My guide, a wonderfully unflappable Icelander named Guðrún, just shrugged and said, “Yes. This is normal.” Normal! I wanted to tölt everywhere. To the shops. To the pub. To my own wedding, ideally.

Viking Blood and a Thousand Years of Purity

These horses arrived in Iceland with the Norse settlers over a thousand years ago, and they have been left more or less alone ever since. The Icelandic government has strict laws: once an Icelandic horse leaves the island, it can never return. No new horses are allowed in either. This means the breed has remained remarkably pure, essentially unchanged since the Viking Age.

There is something wonderfully romantic about that. When you ride an Icelandic horse, you are riding the same type of animal that carried warriors across lava fields and through blizzards that would make most of us weep into our thermal socks. They are hardy beyond belief, living outdoors year-round in a country where the weather changes its mind every twelve minutes. Their coats grow thick and shaggy in winter, their manes become proper Viking manes, and they stand there in the snow looking utterly unbothered, as if to say, “This? This is merely a light breeze.”

The Friendliest Vikings You Will Ever Meet

For all their toughness, though, these horses are absolute softies. They are curious to a fault. During our van trip, I lost count of how many times I would be trying to take a photograph of a waterfall for Dad, only to turn around and find a horse nibbling my jacket sleeve, or breathing warmly on my neck, or simply standing there watching me with those enormous, gentle eyes as if to ask what I was up to and whether I had any carrots about my person.

They are sociable, intelligent, and they seem to genuinely enjoy human company. There is none of the aloofness you sometimes get with larger, more imposing breeds. Icelandic horses want to be your mate. They will follow you around a field like an oversized dog, and they have got a sense of humour too. I swear mine deliberately splashed through a puddle just to see my reaction.

Why Iceland Gets Under Your Skin

I have fallen completely in love with Iceland as a place. The nature is otherworldly. One minute you are driving past moss-covered lava fields that look like the surface of Mars, the next you are staring at a waterfall so powerful it makes you feel wonderfully small. The hospitality is genuine and warm, not the performative sort you sometimes get in tourist hotspots.

And there is something deeply appealing about how people live in such a small, tight-knit community. Life moves differently there. People know their neighbours. They help each other out. They do not lock their doors. It is a completely different rhythm from the frantic pace most of us are used to, and I find myself craving it more and more.

The horses, in a way, feel like the perfect symbol of all of that. Unhurried. Hardy. Friendly. Completely at home in a landscape that would send most of us running for a hot shower and a proper bed.

Why They Matter

In a world of increasingly mechanised everything, there is something deeply grounding about a horse that has not changed in a millennium. Icelandic horses remind us that you do not need to be the biggest or the flashiest to be extraordinary. They are small, yes, but they are strong. They are gentle, but they are fierce. They can carry you across a volcanic landscape in a blizzard and then nuzzle your hand like a puppy.

I came home from our 2024 van adventure with a lot of photos, a piece of volcanic stone that sits on my desk, and memories for life. If you ever get the chance to meet one, to stroke that ridiculous mane, to feel the tölt beneath you, to be inspected by a curious velvet nose, do it. You will not regret it.

They say Iceland gets under your skin. They are right. But for me, it was not just the landscapes or the midnight sun or the geothermal pools that did it. It was the horses. And sharing that with my dad, just the two of us in a van for a week? That is a memory I will be grinning about for the rest of my days.

And now, if you will excuse me, I am off to research how much it would cost to import an Icelandic horse to my very non-Icelandic back garden. Do not tell the council.