“My husband and I try first and foremost to create a sense of home. We’d rather not make it too business-like or hotel-ish.”

So wrote Mrs. Seefried, the hostess who greeted Hallfjället’s very first guests when we opened in the winter of 1943. That spirit of welcome seems woven into the walls: you can still walk in exactly as you are—wearing a wool sweater and thick socks, or dressed in your Sunday best. One guest settles in with a good glass and a book, another brushes snow from his beard and hangs his socks up to dry.

Contrasts have always defined the experience here: a wild, sometimes demanding landscape; a carefully prepared local ingredient; and a perfectly stirred dry martini. Days move to the mountain’s rhythm, and meals are shaped by what truly belongs here.

Coming up the slope means leaving something behind. In return you’re met by clear air, sweeping views, and a stillness that lingers long after you leave—even though the mountain can be stark and the wind biting. Perhaps it’s precious precisely because of that.

Today, once again, a host couple—surrounded by the finest company—fluffs the pillows, stokes the fire, and opens the door. Knock the snow from your boots and step inside—you’ve been expected.

We love cooking over open fire, uncorking good bottles, and filling the kitchen with what truly belongs here—vegetables from our garden in Ottsjö, paired with meat, fish, cheese, and other treats from nearby friends and neighbors. The old boiler room now houses Hållfjället’s wine cellar, its shelves lined with carefully chosen bottles. Pull up a chair—your place at the table is ready.

In our snug rooms, the floors creak as though time itself has paused—lovingly so, and with just a few well-considered refinements. The décor flows with the house, and the old hand-painted beds feel softer than ever. Learn more and book your experience with us.

Hållfjället’s mountain lodge was built in the early 1940s by Austrian visionary Theodor Seefried—a true renaissance soul who drew the plans, engineered the structure, and raised the timber with his own hands. And what a marvel it was for its day: guests skied or hiked up, perhaps with dancing shoes tucked in their packs, ready for an elegant supper and a spin to the piano. What we cherish now—besides the boundless, unfiltered wilderness—is how little has changed. Hållfjället is still a place where artistic flair meets uncompromising craft. We intend to keep it so, for guests to relish and for nature to remain firmly in charge of this remote, protected corner of the world.

Hållfjället isn’t the easiest place to reach—and that’s exactly why it’s special. You come by skis, snowmobile, or on foot. Back in the day, sheer muscle (perhaps with a horse in tow) was the only way up the mountain. Once you arrived, a crackling fire, warm shelter, and something tasty awaited.

In the early 1940s the mountain hostess reminded guests to pack a lunch satchel and a compass—and not to burden the trail leader with oranges and spare mittens. It was, as she wrote, “plain wrong for the guide to haul every lady’s sandwiches.” Her tips were many, always with a wink: wool layers, a map, a bright cap—and above all, a good mood.

Traveling here on foot or skis is still the most evocative way to begin your stay, but there are other routes too. Get in touch, and we’ll guide you.