Some of the barrows were orthodox but varying in size and appearance . Many were queer looking contraptions because their designers and builders could find no other name for them. There were one-man, two-man and four-man barrows. The one-man barrow was pushed by its owner in the morning and pulled slowly at the end of the day when the blistering sun had sapped energy and dimmed enthusiasm.
One of the one-man barrows consisted of a beer barrel on an axle on which was piled the owner’s gear on a platform. This contrivance looked like a miniature steamroller. The owner explained the wide rolling surface made it easier to push over sandy tracks.
Another contraption was a one-wheel cart with a roughly built box as a body with a single wheel underneath on a short axle. Four men set out with this unwieldy affair – two pulling in front while the other two pushed behind and endeavored to keep it upright.
The average load on these wheelbarrows was about 224lbs. In addition water had to be carried over stretches of thirty miles in the blazing sun. Loads were packed as close as possible to the wheel. Food comprised of flour, tea, sugar, tinned meat, fish, dried vegetables and fruit, mostly currants and raisins.
Frequently the wheels were made of softwood boards nailed together in layers until they were two or three inches thick and then roughly cut into some semblance of a circle. The best of these had wheels which had tin nailed around them to act as tyres.
In the heat of the day these tyres became so hot they could not be touched and often expanded and fell off, producing the ultimate in explosive language from an irritated and faded pusher. None of the barrows was miniature in size. Most were usually about six feet long with the wheels towards the centre and the load packed as close to the wheel as possible.
Most of the barrowmen were middle-aged. Some were unsuccessful veterans of many fields who made only ‘Tucker’, and sometimes not even that. Some of the first who pushed barrows to Coolgardie continued to push their barrows and other contraptions until they died.
Barrowmen like Swampers, men who had their belongings carried by wagon, while they walked, were blind adventurers. They gambled on gold and accepted the odds with minds clouded by ignorance or bemused by vague promises of an easy fortune. They were plucky if foolhardy, pushing their barrows buoyed up with hope that spurred them on. Their magnificent physique made it possible for them to push their barrows for hundreds of mile, from one field to another, never once did they vary their belief that one day they would strike it rich, but that day was usually ‘TOMORROW’.
When barrowmen and camel met on the track there was often a good deal of lurid disputation because the camel men looked with scorn on the barrowmen.
‘Shift yer Irish locomotive orf ther track and let a gentleman prospector pass’
they would yell, unloosing tongues, bone dry, but that could be relied upon to be colourful at least.
Moya Sharp
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