thebarrowwright

Historical Notes and the Design Process

Wheelbarrows first appeared in Europe during the early 13th century. The earliest appearance, in fact, is in a stained-glass window at Chartre cathedral! They are thought by scholars to have been derived from the stretchers used on construction sites (such as the one for Chartre Cathedral) to carry heavy loads. The addition of a wheel to one end of a stretcher was a logical improvement allowing one man to do the work previously requiring two. Wheelbarrows are so ubiquitous by the end of the thirteenth century that they appear in numerous paintings and manuscripts as both an image intrinsically tied to the working man and an image of the harvest (as shown in the depictions of demons carrying souls off to hell in the bed of a wheelbarrow)

Most of the barrows depicted in period imagery up to the end of the 15^th century tend to be of the ‘fenced’ variety. The current trend among reenactors to find period methods of hauling their gear around has led to a resurgence of interest in barrows, most often a german one of the 14^th century that allows for it to be taken apart and packed flat, great for transport if you’ve a long way to travel (say to Pensic, PA). A number of SCA carpenters have logged these efforts, most notably, the following two sites (not affiliated with Saint Brigid's Hearth, but well-done and worth visiting!) : Blood & Sawdust andCharles Oakley, Esq. It is to them that I went to learn how to build a wheel since even the mighty King County Library came up dry for me on that particular question.Both of these fine fellows used the German knockdown design, but I was particularly taken with the "fenced" barrows so prominent in period imagery.Also, not being encumbered with the need to haul the thing very far for events, I had the luxury of not needing to take it apart except when I eventually need to change the wheel.

Wood You?

In the renaissance period, dimensional lumber (such as you find at your local lumber yard) was not yet de rigueur so if a yeoman farmer needed to construct a barrow or hoe handle or whatever, he went out into the forest and cut down a tree, shaped the pieces he needed with ax, adze and saw and burned what was left. Toward the end of the 16^th century, England was so deforested that wood was being imported in huge quantities from Russia and the New World. According to port records London saw the import of enormous amounts of wood during our period! This led to the use by those who could not afford fancy imported stuff to use fast-growing trees such as fir (imported from Scotland, where our faire is set) to replace slow-growth hardwoods such as oak and walnut in everyday utilitarian items such as tables and – quite possibly - barrows. So, the use of dimensional lumber in this project may not be period, but the softwoods used to create itcould be.

(They call that 'rationalizing' I think. And I didn't even mention that it kept me below my $25.00 budget for this project. If you don't tell anyone, I won't either!)

Click to enlarge any of the images.

Sawing Logs

The chassis and wheel of this barrow were cut from one 2” X 12” X 8’ (nominal dimensions) and the rest of the wood was either from the scraps or milled from wood on my home woodpile using my table saw.

Two cross-braces will bear the brunt of the load stresses and be joined to the arms to form the chassis of the barrow.The front one was cut from a sizeable cedar log and the back one ripped from a section of dimensional lumber I had lying around.

Supports run the length of the distance between the two main braces (secured with 7/8” dowels & glue) and the bed of the barrow is dowelled to them (utilizing ¼” dowels and glue). In the picture below, you can see the pieces prior to assembly (as well as how badly cracked my driveway is, yikes!).

Confessing my sins…In a departure from period construction, I cut two 3.5” x 3.5” pieces from a 2x4 to receive the ends of the metal axle and reinforced them with some copper bushings I had in my junk drawer. These will allow me to grease the axle and – hopefully provide longer life (my real goal) by reducing the wear-and tear at this most vulnerable point. The receiver pieces are screwed into the superstructure with coated deck-screws to make changes easier in the event of a blowout. The screws are coated to prevent corrosion and the heads are (mostly) covered by the hub when the thing is assembled.

Odd Felloes

The outer portion of the wheel is comprised of four pieces or ‘felloes’ cut from remnants of the 2x12 I used for the chassis. Because I don’t have or have access to a lathe, I had to get creative with the spokes and the hub.

For spokes I used short table legs I picked up on sale somewhere and for the hub I went to the thrift shoppe and found the biggest, longest, burliest rolling pin I could find! Need a big round hunk o’ hardwood for less than a dollar? Rolling pin’s always your best bet and this one had the added benefit of a hole drilled all the way through!

To make the pattern for my felloes, I drew a circle the size I wanted the finished wheel to be and cut it apart. Voila! The pieces are lap-joined together and doweled. The axle is a section of pipe friction-fit (hammered it in with the biggest mallet I could find) through the hub and resting in the copper receivers mentioned above, liberally coated with white grease. I also plugged the pipe ends to keep the grease from escaping.

Eventually I’ll probably add a tire of metal plates (or "shrakes" ) just as the guy at Blood & Sawdust did in his tutorial. For the time being, bare is fine while I decide how well the current design performs...