Author’s Note:Before I start, and before the emails come pouring in telling me I did this that or the other thing wrong or simply back-asswards; I should note for the record that as a craftsman, most of the things I was doing here were firsts for me. I have never – prior to this – cut a tenon, drilled-out a mortis, carved up wood from the woodpile or dowelled anything together worth speaking of. In my real life I’m a big fan of biscuit joinery and modern adhesives. After this project, I have re-thought most of that and committed myself to learning more about these construction techniques. I learned a lot from this project and have yet more to learn.

 

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 15th 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 14th 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 16th 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 it could 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!)

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. 

  In the picture at left, it is easier to see how I laid-out the design for the handles so that when the design was then cut out and transferred to the lumber, arranged for greatest strength (in terms of grain direction) and economy, I could cut both handles from one piece of lumber.

 Once the work with the jigsaw was complete, the two handles were temporarily nailed together and further shaped with rasps, files and sandpaper.Nailing them together (with spacers in the middle to make it easier to take them apart later) allowed them to be nearly identical when I was finished.

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!).

 NOTE: For any SCA-traveling-to-Pensic types viewing this; you can also see from this picture how easily the design could be modified to allow it to knock-down for easier cartage in the back of your car.  Just add keys to the through-tenons and eliminate everywhere I use the word ‘glue’ for the rest of this construction and you’re pretty-much there.

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...

Getting It Together

Using glue, a pocket-knife, some dowels and a drill, the beast was assembled.  The pieces for the "fence" were cut from wood left over from a past-year’s Christmas tree, which has been curing on my woodpile since last January.  I shaved planes from the sides to square them up and then whittled off the ends to make rounds so I could fit them into the top.  

By the way, putting the fence on is a royal pain in the... neck.  Fearful that I was doing something wrong, I did an internet search and came up with the book Constructing Medieval Furniture wherein the author makes a barrow similar to this one.  His instructions for the dashboard (as he calls it) were informative but not terribly helpful “This will probably be the hardest part of the project” followed by some general instructions on how to fiddle with it until you get it to fit.  I wasn't doing it wrong, it's just plan annoying and you have to force it to work.  That's the way it happens sometimes, I guess.  Too bad I didn’t know about the book when I began, incidentally, the shop drawings – if nothing else – would’ve been helpful at the design stage.

Because I can't leave well enough alone, I did a little bit of minimal carving to finish the curl on the ends of the grips and beat the wood silly with a length of chain to distress it a little bit.  When the glue has fully-cured, it will all be done over with a tinted oil finish to further 'age' it and protect it from the weather.

Is it strong enough to haul a person? Carry a fallen knight from the tourney field?  Mayhaps, mayhaps not.  I don’t really care to find out at the moment, as it’s not really germane to my mission here.  If you make one and want to try it, be my guest, but I make no claims on that front whatsoever, so on your head be it.  All that being said, it hauled a load of firewood around my yard and would probably accept a load of armor or a basket of vegetables for a yeoman farmer hauling his crop to market.

And there you have it!  A nice little wheel barrow built for about $25.00!