Medieval and Renaissance Awl Hafts

Fol­low­ing on from my pre­vi­ous two posts about awls, I should say some­thing about medieval awl hafts since none of the hafts I’ve pic­tured pre­vi­ously are medieval in shape (one is an attempt, but it’s all wrong).

Marc Carl­son has a lot of pic­tures of his­toric shoe­mak­ers on his Footwear of the Mid­dle Ages site. Some of those pic­tures show awls in use (whether as shoe­mak­ing tools, or instru­ments of tor­ture) from which I’ve had a go at draw­ing the out­lines of the hafts and put them in a PDF, includ­ing three mod­ern awl hafts from my collection.

The draw­ings should give you an idea of the pro­files of medieval and renais­sance awls. The sizes are guesses based on my exist­ing awl hafts and how they fit in my hands, and on the scale from the pic­ture. The sizes of the awls from the SO1 ship­wreck are based on pho­tographs from the Mem­ory of the Nether­lands site. The pic­tures are here: awl one (No.8 in my draw­ing), and awl two (No. 9 in my drawing).

The sizes aren’t exact; I think the hafts from “Two scenes with Sts Crispi­nus and Crispini­anus” by the Bernese Mas­ter of the Pinks are implau­si­bly short, and the hafts shown in the pic­ture of Her­man some­o­ne­orother in the 1531 Mendelschen Haus­buch are overly chunky. Remem­ber that these are paint­ings, not pho­tographs and if you use these to make your own hafts, find out what works for you.

Remem­ber also that the blades of medieval and renais­sance awls are always straight, curved awls are a mod­ern invention.

 

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Using Awls Without Hurting Your Hand

How you hold an awl in use is impor­tant for a cou­ple of rea­sons. You need to hold it in a way that gives you good con­trol over what you’re doing but allows you to apply suf­fi­cient force while reduc­ing a ten­dency to lever the blade (which will surely snap it); but you also need to hold it in a way that doesn’t dam­age your hand.

It’s very tempt­ing when you first pick up an awl to butt the end of the haft into the hol­low of your palm, and use your hand like that to push the awl through the leather. The prob­lem is that right in the mid­dle of the palm of your hand there’s a nerve called the Median nerve that branches out to your thumb, index, mid­dle, and half of your ring fin­ger. It’s respon­si­ble for the “cuta­neous inner­va­tion” of those parts of your hand. “Cuta­neous inner­va­tion” is a the tech­ni­cal way of say­ing it’s respon­si­ble for the feel­ing in your skin — i.e. most of the use­ful feel­ing that you rely on for dex­ter­ity in half your hand.

Deep palmar nerves from plate 817 of the 1918 edition of Gray's anatomy.  Ganked from Wikipedia.

Deep pal­mar nerves from plate 817 of the 1918 edi­tion of Gray’s anatomy, ganked from Wikipedia. You can see the median nerve clearly.

 

If you use an awl with the haft butted into this bit of your palm for any length of time you’re likely to bruise that nerve, which hurts and can also affect the dex­ter­ity of the fin­gers whose sen­sa­tion comes from this nerve.

Most purpose-made shoe­mak­ers awl hafts that I’ve seen have a num­ber of fea­tures in com­mon, regard­less of their shape and size:

  • a rel­a­tively long fer­rule; and
  • an approx­i­mately oval or tapered haft body; and
  • a groove near the base capped by a ‘but­ton’ or a ball shape that forms the butt of the haft.
Different shapes of awl haft but all with common features.

Dif­fer­ent shapes of awl haft but all with com­mon features.

These fea­tures all help you use the tool. The long fer­rule is where your thumb and index fin­ger sit to give you con­trol, the oval body (on shorter hafts) or gen­er­ally tapered body (on longer hafts) makes for a com­fort­able grip, and the groove near the base is used to help pull stitches tight (the exact tech­nique for which is the sub­ject of an upcom­ing post).

Correct way to hold a short awl haft

Ring fin­ger in the groove of the haft pro­vides most of the force trans­fer. Thumb and index fin­ger on the fer­rule pro­vide control.

Holding a short awl haft

Short awl haft in closed hand. Held like this the butt of the haft avoids the cen­tre of the palm.

How not to hold a short awl

This is how many peo­ple will nat­u­rally hold an awl. It’s a recipe for a sore hand.

How not to hold a short awl

Bad way to hold a short awl show­ing the hand closed.

I have quite big hands and find it eas­ier to hold long awls cor­rectly. The one in the pic­tures below is a good shape for me for big­ger awl blades. It’s not so good for small fine awls for me, but with big awls like the heav­ily curved heel seat awl blade in it it works well. I wrap my lit­tle fin­ger around the groove near the base.

Good way to hold a long awl haft.

The right way I’ve found to hold a long awl haft. Lit­tle fin­ger hooked around the groove at the base.

Hand closed around long awl haft

Thumb and index fin­ger on the fer­rule for con­trol, lit­tle fin­ger in the groove and ring and mid­dle fin­ger press­ing the haft against the meaty bit of my hand at the base of my fingers.

Bad way to hold a long awl haft

Hold­ing the haft like this can feel like it offers more con­trol and can be eas­ier to push but butts the awl straight into the median nerve.

Bad way to hold a long awl haft

Fin­gers closed around a long awl haft held incorrectly.

I’ve found it much eas­ier to hold makeshift awl hafts incor­rectly purpose-made ones. The makeshift hafts I have tend to be shorter and all lack the groove at the base of the haft.

Makeshift haft held incorrectly

With a short makeshift haft (this one is a small file han­dle) it’s much eas­ier to hold them incorrectly.

It is pos­si­ble to hold them the right way, but it takes more of a con­scious effort and prac­tice. The steps to get­ting a short haft in hand cor­rectly are as follows:

Right way to hold a makeshift awl haft

With a makeshift awl I use my ring fin­ger to cap­ture the haft.

Right way to hold a makeshift awl haft, fingers partly closed

Roll the haft into your hand with your ring, index and lit­tle fin­ger. The idea is to catch it between your fin­gers and the meat of your palm at the base of your fingers.

Holding a makeshift all correctly

Even with a short and wide fer­rule like this one, the thumb and index fin­ger can close on the haft to pro­vide control.

The worse haft I have is the first one I put together from a tool han­dle and a dia­mond blade. I used this haft to make my first few pairs of shoes and I haven’t used it since. The shape of the han­dle with the swell right at the butt of the haft and the taper in towards the flared rim up by the fer­rule lends itself per­fectly to butting into the cen­tre of the palm of my hand and it’s quite dif­fi­cult to avoid.

 

Awl haft made from tool handle is difficult to hold

This haft shape lends itself per­fectly to butting into the cen­tre of the palm right where you don’t want it.

Awl haft from tool handle is easy to hold wrong

Fin­gers very nat­u­rally curl into the taper and push it right into the cen­tre of the palm.

The file han­dle haft is bet­ter to use than this one, I don’t use it any more and I’d advise against any­one else mak­ing awl  hafts out of this type of tool handle.

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An Awl That’s Not For Making Holes

I’ve seen had sev­eral peo­ple new to leather­work or shoe­mak­ing tell me they’ve bought an awl but they are hav­ing real trou­ble get­ting it to make holes prop­erly. Most times when I’ve asked them to show it to me, they’ve shown me one of these:

Scratch awl

This is a scratch awl. It is a mark­ing tool not a tool for pierc­ing holes.

It’s called a scratch awl and it’s used for mark­ing out pat­terns and prick­ing dots in leather. This is an awl, but it is not a tool for mak­ing holes. The ‘blade’ is round and tapers to a point. Sewing awl blades are flat­tened ovals and have a slightly chisel shaped tip.

If you’ve got one of these, keep it, they’re handy tools, but don’t try using it to make holes through leather for stitching.

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Awls

After a year in which, thanks to var­i­ous ail­ments, I’ve bought a lot more tools than I’ve used,  I now have a fairly rea­son­able col­lec­tion of awls.

Awl collection

My shoe­mak­ing and leather­work awls. They live in a can of beeswax to pro­tect the points.

No two have the same haft, and there are a few def­i­nite favorites in the col­lec­tion. Most of the awls I have were obtained nth hand and all but a cou­ple have vin­tage blades in them. Good awl blades are get­ting pretty hard to find new, but for­tu­nately for medieval & renais­sance shoe­mak­ing you don’t need mod­ern curved awls and straight blades are easy to make.

The one new awl I bought was made by Dick Ander­son at Thor­nap­ple River Boots. He makes some of the nicest mod­ern shoe­mak­ing awls you can get. My one is a No.2 inseam­ing awl.The prices listed on his web­site aren’t cur­rent, so email or call him for up-to-date prices and to dis­cuss what you’re after. If you enjoy own­ing and using tools that are beau­ti­ful pieces of crafts­man­ship in their own right, get your­self one (or sev­eral) of Dick Anderson’s awls.

Dick Anderson awl

A No.2 inseam­ing awl by Dick Ander­son of Thor­nap­ple River Boots. One of my favourite shoe­mak­ing tools.

My absolute favorite awl is this lit­tle one with a ball on the end. It’s turned from box and I plan on get­ting more just like it made. At some point some­one has sanded a flat into the haft so it won’t roll around on the bench; I really should have paid more atten­tion to the ori­en­ta­tion of that when I put the blade in it but I still love it.

boxwood awl haft

My favourite awl. There’s noth­ing quite like box­wood for awl hafts and the shape is beautiful.

A previous owner has filed a flat into the haft of the awl to stop it rolling on the bench.

A pre­vi­ous owner has filed a flat into the haft of the awl to stop it rolling on the bench.

 

One of the things that appeals to me about second-hand awls are the sto­ries they bring about their pre­vi­ous own­ers. Most of the old shoe­mak­ing awls I have have have traces of wax on them, usu­ally around the shaft of the ‘but­ton’ on the end of the haft show­ing where they’ve been used to pull the thread tight and they all have dings and marks and pati­na­tion of age and use.

Some which I got from the estate of a leather­worker have deep pits and grooves all over the mid­dle of the haft. It took a bit of star­ing before I realised these were the marks of years of being used like a sailmaker’s palm to push stub­born har­ness nee­dles through leather.

This haft bears the scars of years of being used to push needles through leather

This haft bears the scars of years of being used to push nee­dles through leather

Another haft bought from the same person as the more square grooved haft shows that using the awl to push needles was a habit, not just something he did with one particular awl.

Another haft bought from the same per­son as the more square grooved haft shows that using the awl to push nee­dles was a habit, not just some­thing he did with one par­tic­u­lar awl.

It’s worth not­ing that you don’t need all these awls to make good medieval shoes. I made my first four pairs with one awl, a dia­mond shaped saddler’s awl shoved into a haft from a generic (I think Tandy) tool of some other kind.

A diamond awl blade in a generic tool handle. I made my first four pairs with this awl.

A dia­mond awl blade in a generic tool han­dle. I made my first four pairs with this awl.

You can make a bet­ter awl than this for medieval shoe­mak­ing for less than NZ$5 and some time if you have a belt sander and a dremel. The awl below is made from a masonry nail NZ$0.50c and a file han­dle from the hard­ware store NZ$2.50. It works bet­ter than the dia­mond awl above.

Awl made from a ground down masonry nail and a file handle

Awl made from a ground down masonry nail and a file handle

None of these awls are medieval, I’ll post about medieval awl haft shapes later.

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Class Notes for Class on Round Closing

At the upcom­ing Can­ter­bury Faire I am going to be teach­ing a class on mak­ing round closed seams (butted seams) for shoe­mak­ing. Here’s a link to the hand­out I’ve writ­ten for peo­ple to take home as a ref­er­ence after the class.

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Sectioned Shoes

I’ve had a cou­ple of sin­gle­ton shoes kick­ing around for a while now that are made well, but for one rea­son or another were never going to be pairs. Some time ago I had the idea of cut­ting them in half to use as teach­ing aids, and recently got a saddler’s round knife which is the per­fect tool for cleanly cut­ting a whole shoe in half.

One is a later 14th cen­tury style turned shoe and the other is a late 16th cen­tury style shoe based on a find from the SO-1 ship­wreck. Both are styles doc­u­mented in Step­ping Through Time.

I have scanned rather than pho­tographed them because the main points of inter­est are the cut edges of the sec­tion. The 16th cen­tury shoe would only fit on the scan­ner diag­o­nally, so I only scanned half of it, the 14th cen­tury shoe was small enough to fit both halves on the scan­ner bed.

It is a lit­tle dif­fi­cult to get the details in with­out the pic­ture being enor­mous so I’ve cropped the detail at the heel and toe on each pair.

The leather is 2.5-3mm mod­ernly ‘veg­etable’ tanned bovine dou­ble shoul­der. The thread is hand-plied from #10 dry spun hemp and waxed with code. You can see in some of the sec­tions how the threads com­pletely fill the holes in the leather. This is thanks to sewing with bris­tles which work with a much smaller hole than nee­dles. The threads present a smoothly cut edge with­out any fuzzi­ness which is a good sign that the code has pen­e­trated right through the fibres of the plied cord.

 

Starting a Late 16th Century Style Last

Over the next few weeks I will be mak­ing, and with a lit­tle bit of luck, actu­ally fin­ish­ing a pair of late 16th cen­tury shoes for my Lau­rel, who is soon to be ele­vated to the order of the Pel­i­can. They will be white ‘indoor’ shoes, sin­gle soled for danc­ing and dec­o­rated with cutwork.

Unlike ear­lier period shoes you really need a last for shoes of this style, so I’m start­ing out on my sec­ond late 16th cen­tury style last. As with my first one, it is based largely on finds from the Dutch SO-1 ship­wreck, which was wrecked off the island of Texel in the Wad­den Sea on Christ­mas Eve in 1593. I have pre­vi­ously writ­ten a research paper on the lasts and shoes found on the wreck as pre-project doc­u­men­ta­tion for another pair of shoes based directly on finds from the wreck. That will get writ­ten up on here in due course.

The shoes are ‘straights’ — sym­met­ri­cal shoes with­out defined left and rights. They fit quite dif­fer­ently from paired shoes and the lasts are quite dif­fer­ent. The up-side is that you only need one last rather than a matched pair.

These are the orig­i­nal lasts. This pic­ture comes from the web­site of the Dutch “Mem­ory of the Nether­lands” project which has numer­ous pic­tures of finds from the SO-1 as well as many other wrecks.

so-1-lasts

These lasts are also drawn by Olaf Goub­itz in Step­ping Through Time and a recog­nis­ably sim­i­lar style of last can be seen in Leather and Leather­work­ing in Anglo-Scandinavian and Medieval York.

This is the first last I made based on the SO-1 exam­ples. It is roughly the right shape but there’s still about 30% too much mate­r­ial in the front part. The pro­to­type shoe I made on it is the right length but far too big in volume.

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The last I am mak­ing now is made from two bits of 100x50mm (what US folk call a two-by-four) radi­ata pine con­struc­tion tim­ber. This is really not a good wood to make lasts out of but it’s what I have lying around and while I’m still in the phase of learn­ing to make these it’s a soft, eas­ily worked, wood that holds up well enough to make a few shoes on.

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The rough­ing out is done just with straight cuts from a saw. This would be far eas­ier with a band­saw but I don’t have one big enough to cut this much wood. The next stage is a few cuts done with a cop­ing saw, then rough­ing in the final shape with a draw knife and on to shap­ing planes for the final shape. Fin­ish­ing will be done with cab­i­net scrap­ers. So far I’ve removed about 60% of the mate­r­ial to come off. The other 40% is going to take 90% of the time.

The Right Tool for this work is a block knife but sadly I don’t own one yet. I plan obtain­ing a stock knife suit­able for mak­ing lasts as well as a set of clog­ging knives but that’s a ways off yet. A stock knife would mas­sively speed up the process of shap­ing the last.

I don’t have any­thing against the idea of using power tools or abra­sives to make lasts. It just so hap­pens that I don’t have the knack of shap­ing forms like this with power tools. I find it much eas­ier to keep a sense of the shape and what mate­r­ial I’m remov­ing using hand tools. I’m inter­ested in shoe­mak­ing as accu­rately as I can with the most accu­rate tools and tech­niques I can use but so long as the last comes out the right shape and works like a late 16th cen­tury one the tools used to make it don’t really mat­ter to me.

One day I may get seri­ously into last­mak­ing with tra­di­tional hand tools and the right woods and all but that day is not today. I say ‘tra­di­tional’ here because I’m not aware of any evi­dence exist­ing as to how medieval and renais­sance last mak­ers worked or the tools they used.

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A quote from a master bootmaker

D.W. From­mer is a west­ern boot­maker whose work I greatly admire and, while I have never met him, over some years of read­ing his posts on the Crispin Col­lo­quy his atti­tude to his craft has been influ­en­tial in my own think­ing about the craft of shoemaking.

Recently he wrote this in a post to the board:

[…] I wish that I could instill in every stu­dent I take, and every shoe/bootmaker who wants to lis­ten, the notion that we don’t make shoes just to col­lect the sell­ing price and then wash our hands of them. There is always another day, and always a con­se­quence to every decision…be it regard­ing tech­nique or materials…that we make. What many fail to real­ize is that a year, two years, ten years down the road they are still ours reflect­ing our judg­ment and our skills.”

I think his point is of value to every crafts­man, regard­less of whether they’re a pro­fes­sional work­ing for pay or a reen­ac­tor mak­ing some­thing for them­selves. Keep this in mind with every step you take in mak­ing some­thing, and with every deci­sion you make about design or the exe­cu­tion of a par­tic­u­lar tech­nique, and regard­less of your level of man­ual skill or the depth of your knowl­edge your work will be bet­ter for it.

Two Pairs of Early Period Shoes

(Edit­ing another post to fix the date I realised this one has been sit­ting in draft state for ages with­out actu­ally get­ting pub­lished. I wrote this post in April ’09)

These are shoes I made for two mem­bers of my house­hold who were asked to join the royal house­hold of our SCA king and queen. The king and queen are doing Merovingian-era, and wanted their house­hold to have match­ing cloth­ing and period shoes. This was one of those sit­u­a­tions where I’d have liked to have taught the wear­ers how to make the shoes but they needed them in a hurry and it was quicker to make them myself than it would have been to teach peo­ple how to make them.

Both of these are based on exam­ples in Step­ping Through Time close in time to but not specif­i­cally Merovin­gian. I don’t have any spe­cific sources on early period shoes other than Willy Groenman-Van Waateringe’s bit in STT.

All this hap­pened just before a major event at the begin­ning of this year, mean­ing these were real rush jobs. I did both pairs, includ­ing fit­ting, in two and a bit evenings. The pho­tographs were also rather rushed, taken while the shoes were still damp from turn­ing, so the colour of the leather isn’t nec­es­sar­ily true to life.

For­tu­nately, given the time con­straints, they are quite sim­ple shoes. Both are car­batines — the sole and upper all being the same piece — which made the pat­tern­ing quite a lot eas­ier. It also cut down on the required sewing a lot because there wasn’t a sole seam to do. I’m not sure I could have done two pairs of shoes with sep­a­rate soles in that time with­out skiv­ing off work and fore­go­ing a lot of sleep.

Rushed as they were there are pat­tern­ing issues I would have fixed if I’d had more time. Mainly the toe on the ones with the pierced tounge is much too pointy, it should be a lot more rounded. The point of the heel on one of that pair is well off cen­tre too, I fixed it on the sec­ond shoe but didn’t have time to remake the first one on the fixed pat­tern. Those are fairly minor things though and I’m quite happy with them over­all. Impor­tantly the con­struc­tion is sound and rea­son­ably neat despite hav­ing been done in a hurry and it’s nice to know I can get away with that. I can do very neat work, but the abil­ity to do very neat work at a good speed is some­thing that only comes with a lot of practice.

The leather is my stan­dard 2.5 mm veg-tanned bovine shoul­der. I was orig­i­nally going to make these out of thin­ner, 1.5 mm, leather for fear the thicker stuff wouldn’t take the rather dras­tic form­ing around the toe but the 1.5 mm leather I had turned out to be too thin and flimsy.

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These shoes are held onto the legs with ties thread­ing through the holes in the tounge. Orig­i­nally they’d have been woven or braided, we ended up using some nice bro­caded rib­bon. I can’t remem­ber if we slot­ted the heel to thread the tape through or not.

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The dec­o­ra­tion was free­hand scribed into damp leather with a scratch awl. The teardrop cutouts are a punched hole and two straight cuts to form the point.

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The side seam of the toe is a round closed seam inside. The ‘tail’ lying over the vamp was tunnel-stitched down after the shoe was turned. I can’t base this on any­thing other than that it seemed like the obvi­ous way to do it but I’m happy with how it came out.

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Still-wet shoes just turned. These were dec­o­rated before being closed. The dec­o­ra­tion on one is darker than the other because I left it out in the sun after doing the work which dark­ened the exposed leather in the grooves. On the other I did the dec­o­ra­tion after leav­ing the leather in the sun so the grooves are lighter than the grain sur­face. This will change over time as they’re worn out­doors but I like the effect on the new shoe.

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Long seam up the mid­dle of the vamp. This is a whip-stitched butted seam as on the orig­i­nals, not a round closed seam

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Here you can see the back seams and the inside of the vamp seam. These are slip-on shoes with­out a fas­ten­ing. The slits at the sides allow the foot to get in and out.

A couple of tools

I just fin­ished mak­ing these. They aren’t based on any­thing in par­tic­u­lar but nor are they glar­ingly mod­ern. I recently got a gas torch and some refrac­tory bricks which means I can do very very small scale forg­ing, per­fect for awl blades and small tools. I am very much a novice at both forg­ing and wood­turn­ing but they came out Ok I think. Both are usable.

Even­tu­ally I want to try mak­ing some medieval punches for open­work shoes but that’s prob­a­bly going to require forge weld­ing which the lit­tle torch won’t do and man­drels I don’t have yet.

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The first is a peg­ging awl I need for a pair of 16th cen­tury shoes which have par­tially pegged lifts. It’s dri­ven with a ham­mer and makes a square hole through two lay­ers of thick leather into which a slightly over­size wooden peg, roughly the same cross-section as a match­stick, is dri­ven. Done right, it’s incred­i­bly secure. I’ve never done it before so I have no idea how well this will work out. I plan on exper­i­ment­ing once I’ve cut some pegs. I have some scraps of beech kick­ing around which is good peg wood.

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This was the first blade I made, it was too small and badly heat treated and it snapped when I was dri­ving the haft on.

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The sec­ond is a groov­ing tool. It’s entirely con­jec­tural since I’ve never seen an exam­ple of a medieval or renais­sance groov­ing tool but I have seen exam­ples of cut grooves which are dis­tinct from grooves that have been scratched or inscribed with an awl.

My first attempt at a groov­ing tool was a length of nail with a hole drilled through the end and then filed and pol­ished at the tip to sharpen the rim of the hole, sort of like a very very small scorp. I used that on a cou­ple of projects and it worked but I didn’t think it was a par­tic­u­larly plau­si­ble con­struc­tion for a medieval tool. If you’re forg­ing, a small round bar with a hole in the end is a lot harder than a bar with a flat­tened end folded over and sharp­ened so I made one like that. It seems to work quite well.

This is it from the back:
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This is the blade before it got mounted, you can see the sharp edge:
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Not a great photo, I need to rejig my light­box so I can take pho­tos straight down on things.

The hafts are turned from Ash, which I have lots of scraps of lying around after using it for tent poles. The fer­rules are strips of brass bent and nailed in place. A sim­i­lar fer­rule was found in York and is pic­tured in Leather and Leather­work­ing in Anglo Scan­di­na­vian and Medieval York.

The form of the mushroom-shaped haft is very approx­i­mately based on this haft from the SO-1 ship­wreck, a late 16th cen­tury wreck in the Dutch Wad­den Sea, on which the shoes I’m going to recre­ate were also found.

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