Inside Sweden’s Icehotel: how it’s built and why it melts away

Every winter in the small Swedish village of Jukkasjärvi, a castle of pure ice and snow rises—the Icehotel. By spring, it disappears without a trace. How is that possible?

How did it all begin?

The idea for an ice hotel was born by accident. In 1989, Jukkasjärvi hosted an exhibition of ice sculptures, and one visitor decided to spend the night in this unusual “venue.” The experiment worked, and soon there was a first building where people could sleep among frozen walls. That first leap of curiosity set the tone for everything that followed.

Since then, the Icehotel has been rebuilt from scratch every year. It’s more than a place to stay—it’s a vast art project, with artists and designers from around the world arriving to carve genuine works of ice art. The result feels as much a hotel as a temporary museum.

How is the ice hotel built?

Construction starts long before winter. In spring, when the ice on the Torne River grows thick and clear, it’s cut into large blocks. Those blocks are stored in freezers until the time is right.

In November, artists, architects, and builders begin raising the structure. They use not only ice but also a special snow-and-ice mix that strengthens the walls. By December, the hotel is ready for guests. The schedule is tight and leaves little room for error—and that edge is part of the allure.

What’s inside?

Inside the Icehotel, the temperature stays around -5°C, yet staying overnight is very much the point. Beds are made of ice, topped with warm reindeer hides. Guests are given special sleeping bags to keep the chill at bay. It sounds austere, but the comfort is surprisingly well thought out.

Beyond the rooms, there’s an ice bar where drinks are served in glasses carved from ice, and even an ice chapel where weddings are held. Few places turn cold into ceremony so convincingly.

If you want to experience the hotel in summer, that’s possible too. A dedicated wing, Icehotel 365, operates year-round thanks to a cooling system powered by the sun—a neat twist of logic where sunlight protects the ice.

Where does the hotel go?

When spring sunlight returns, the hotel simply melts. The water flows back into the Torne River, leaving nothing behind but memories and photographs. There’s a quiet honesty in that ending, as if the building bows out on nature’s terms.

This natural cycle makes the Icehotel unique. It’s an eco-friendly project that leaves no waste and doesn’t harm the environment. In an age of excess, that restraint feels genuinely refreshing.