Barnstorming

The damp and moist soil floor of the old barn was certainly home to something.

I hesitated at the low and squat north side entrance to take stock of the observation of a lot of excavated holes. Certainly an indication of concentrated burrowing by animal or animals unknown.

The passage of the sun across the opposite face of the building, by mid morning, produced thin shafts of dusty and insect strewn light through the arrow slit vent openings. Two large plank doors glowed as the sunlight found its way through the fissures and cracks in the rotten woodwork.

In spite of this natural illumination it was still quite gloomy in the far recesses of the barn.

The brickwork was green-stained and leaching out salts and minerals from persistent penetration of rainfall. My heavy footfall approach, purposefully intended to alert any creatures to my presence, had worked and the deep, dark and sinister entrances to any subterranean network were still and quiet. I took this to mean that my path into the barn would not be impeded by scurrying rodents, ambling badgers or a cornered fox.

It was necessary to stoop in the action of stepping over the threshold which, being the thickness of the external wall, was a good lengthy stride for me. The farmworkers, active in the halcyon days of this particular farmstead in the late 1700's and through to the arrival of mechanisation towards the mid 19th Century, would not have had to crouch to negotiate the low clearance. Although working in an open air and healthy environment the onset of rickets, premature curvature of the spine and the ravages of poor nutrition in their early years would stunt their growth so as to make the ground floor of the barn seem positively cavernous.

The top of my head brushed the underside of hayloft boarding leading to a shower of cobwebs, insect bored sawdust and a few decades of dirt and grime. I made a mental note to keep well clear of the woodwork which would be bristling with protruding nails, spikes and other sharp objects, any of which being capable of inflicting a nasty wound.

As my eyes became accustomed to the change in light I could make out the detail of the ground floor of the barn. It was a squat and wide structure intended to provide a large open plan space for the industry of agriculture. This was with the exception of a line of very substantial square brick pillars through the mid point on which sat huge rough hewn boughs, tree trunks in fact. Remarkably well preserved these resembled the timbers seen at riverside wharfs in terms of dimension and inherent strength.

Close-up the surface was peppered with woodworm and insect flight holes but they had made little headway into the dense heartwood.

The scale and rigidity of the undercroft of the barn gave me some indication of what to expect on the main hayloft level above.

I made my way carefully through the cratered floor, tentatively putting my bodyweight on my front foot to test the surface for any weakness or give. It seemed to be stable and not likely to fall away beneath me.

An angled open riser ladder was the means of access to the first floor.

It was wide enough for a worker to carry up a bale of hay or a sack of grain with relative ease and I found this reassuring as I prepared to clamber up.

Head down to ensure a good foothold I only glanced up as my head and shoulders cleared the hatch in the loft floor.

I stared in amazement at the scene before me.

I had entered a vast cathedral like space so very and strikingly different to the enclosed vault of the ground floor.

For a brief moment I was disorientated by the inverted 'V' of the roof. It resembled the fashioned ribs and bulkheads of the hull of a capsised ship, of Mary Rose proportions and quality. I felt as though I had emerged between decks albeit in a confused upside down world.

Spanning between the outside walls were the horizontal beams of the principal supports. These were yet more tree trunks, simply stripped of peripheral branches and boughs and lugged into position on the top of the wall either side of the structure. I could imagine this being a mammoth task of manual labour at the time. From this had been constructed the 'A' frame of the trusses.

Craftsmen joiners will have knotched out joints and formed holes for the wooden pegs to be driven in to tighten up and strengthen the framework as required to take the deadweight of the roof. The angled rafters , themselves significantly sized timbers, followed the plane of the trusses, up to more crafted peg joints at the apex of the roof. In between and to brace against the wind the hull-like structure were two parallel lines of purlins in staggered positions.

In comparison the timber battens onto which the roof tiles were intermittently nailed were like lollipop sticks.

I doubt if the barn had been actively in use for the last 30 years but as a testament to the workmanship and calibre of the original build it had  remained perfectly watertight. The clay pantiles could be heard to rattle with any gust of wind but they had remained resolute in excluding any weather. A few transluscent tiles, in pantile shape, had been inserted into the roofline from the Victorian era to throw some light on proceedings and these too were sound in spite of the fragility of the hand made glass.

Other sources of natural light emanated from the hayloft pitching door in the west gable where the pane was shattered and through more of the arrow slit ventilation openings formed in the thick outer walls. The sunlight was dazzling from the west giving the reddish brown brick a warm glow inside the transept like space.

I was in awe of the whole sight and felt privileged to have seen it in such glorious originality. Within a few months much of the detail will have been covered up, obscured, dulled or lost as a consequence of the conversion of the barn into accommodation for a seasonal holiday let.


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