160kg of concrete, centuries of history, and 40 metres that meant rather more than I expected.
There are certain stones in the world of strength that carry a significance far beyond their weight. The Dinnie Stones in Scotland, the Inver Stone, and perhaps the most famous of them all: Iceland's legendary Húsafell Stone.
For anyone involved in traditional stone lifting, these aren't simply heavy objects. They're pieces of history, tests of strength that have endured for generations, and destinations that lifters travel thousands of miles to experience.
So when we had the opportunity to bring a faithful replica of the Húsafell Stone to The Commando Temple in Deptford, we knew we had to make it happen.
And this week, after months of anticipation, we finally unveiled it.
The Legend of the Húsafell Stone
The original Húsafell Stone, known in Icelandic as Kvíahellan (the Pen Slab), sits beside an old livestock pen in western Iceland.
Its history stretches back to the 18th century, when Reverend Snorri Björnsson built the pen for his sheep and goats. The large, irregularly shaped basalt slab served as a gate, but over time it became something much more significant: a test of human strength.
The challenge is beautifully simple.
Pick up the stone, secure it against your body, and carry it around the perimeter of the pen without putting it down.
Those who complete the challenge earn the distinction of Fullsterkur, meaning 'full strength'.
There's even a legend that Snorri's daughter, Guðný, carried the stone around the pen twice.
Today, Húsafell has become something of a pilgrimage site for stone lifters. People travel from across the world to stand beside that old sheep pen and test themselves against the same stone that generations before them have attempted to lift.
No handles. No convenient grip. Just you, an awkward slab of rock, and a walk around a pen.
It's exactly the sort of thing that appeals to us at London Stone Lifting.
Bringing Húsafell to London
Through Stone Club at The Commando Temple, we managed to secure a replica from Atlas Endurance, a specialist stone maker whose work supplies major strength competitions.
What makes this particular replica so special is the attention to detail.
Rather than simply producing a vaguely Húsafell-shaped concrete block, the maker painstakingly recreated the original stone's dimensions and surface features, right down to its textures, marks and scratches.
The process involves sculpting the stone, creating a mould from that sculpture, and then casting the finished replica in concrete.
The result is extraordinary.
The original stone is recorded at approximately 157kg, while our replica weighs 160kg. Close enough that, in practical terms, you're experiencing a remarkably faithful version of the original challenge.
And the shape matters enormously.
Unlike a barbell, where the weight is evenly distributed and the grip is predictable, a stone like this forces you to adapt. Finding a purchase, getting it off the floor, securing it against your torso and then moving with it are all separate challenges.
It's awkward, uncomfortable and completely unforgiving.
Which is precisely why we love it.
We're incredibly proud to have brought this replica to The Commando Temple, and to be, as far as we're aware, the only gym in London with one of these faithful Húsafell replicas.
The First Lift
Naturally, we couldn't just quietly introduce the stone into the gym.
We organised a proper unveiling and lifting session, bringing members of our stone-lifting community together to welcome the newest addition to our collection.
Unfortunately, my timing couldn't have been much worse.
I'd been recovering from an illness and, to put it mildly, I felt absolutely dreadful.
Ordinarily, attempting a maximal stone carry while feeling that rough would be a fairly terrible idea. And I knew it.
But this was the Húsafell Stone.
Or at least, the closest thing to it that I was going to get without travelling to Iceland.
Having spent so much time looking forward to its arrival, I couldn't quite bring myself to sit on the sidelines.
My first attempt at picking it up was awkward. There's a particular knack to getting underneath a stone of this shape, and even with plenty of experience handling natural stones, it took a little figuring out.
On the next attempt, things clicked.
I managed to secure the stone properly, stand up with it, and start walking.
And once I was moving, I felt surprisingly comfortable.
I carried the 160kg stone for 40 metres, with enough confidence that I felt I could have continued.
It was a hugely satisfying moment.
Not because 40 metres is some extraordinary distance in the wider world of strength sports, but because it gave me confidence that, when I eventually stand beside the original stone in Iceland, I'll have a genuine chance of completing the challenge.
Of course, there was a price to pay.
Almost immediately afterwards, the illness caught up with me and I felt truly dreadful.
I certainly wouldn't recommend ignoring your body's warning signs as a general training strategy.
But I was absolutely delighted with the carry.
Sometimes a particular lift means a little more than the numbers suggest.
This was one of those occasions.
The Road to Iceland
The arrival of the replica is particularly exciting because a group of us from London Stone Lifting are planning a trip to Iceland next year.
The Húsafell Stone is one of the major objectives.
We'll be travelling to experience the country's incredible stone-lifting heritage, and ultimately to attempt the real thing beside that historic sheep pen.
Having a faithful replica at our disposal gives us a fantastic training opportunity.
We can practise the pick-up, experiment with positioning, build confidence carrying an awkward load, and develop the strength and endurance required for the challenge.
But there's something more meaningful about it too.
When we eventually arrive in Húsafell, we won't be approaching the stone as complete strangers.
We'll have spent months getting to know its shape, its balance and its peculiar demands.
Of course, nothing will quite replicate the experience of lifting the original, in the place where its story began.
And that's the whole point of the pilgrimage.
More Than Just a Heavy Stone
One of the things I love most about stone lifting is the connection it creates between strength, history and community.
Modern strength training is full of carefully engineered equipment, precise measurements and highly specialised methods.
And there's absolutely a place for all of that.
But sometimes it's refreshing to strip everything back to something incredibly simple.
Here's a heavy stone.
Can you pick it up?
Can you carry it?
There's no complicated scoring system, no technology and no need to explain why the challenge matters.
You understand it the moment you put your hands on the stone.
Bringing the Húsafell replica to Deptford gives our Stone Club another extraordinary challenge to work towards, but it also gives us a tangible connection to a tradition that has survived for centuries.
And seeing our community gather around it for the first time was every bit as rewarding as carrying it myself.
I'm enormously proud that we've managed to bring something this special to The Commando Temple.
160kg. 40 metres. One very memorable first carry.
Next stop, Iceland.
I'm Ben, a strength coach at The Commando Temple in Deptford and founder of London Stone Lifting. Through BearWolf Training, I help people build practical, measurable strength, whether that's with barbells, kettlebells, sandbags or the occasional enormous piece of rock.
If you're interested in getting stronger, trying something different, or discovering traditional stone lifting, get in touch to arrange a free consultation.