Strawbale Sheds - Worms, Water & Fire

IT IS winter — once again July in Franklinford, Central Victoria. Today the rain is hammering on my metal roof. I can barely hear myself think, so I don’t — but I can remember . . . this weather does this to me every time.

Last July the Muse, our strawbale cottage next door, now beautiful and often inhabited by happy holidaymakers and strawbale fans, was still a partly-rendered mess. The year before — having just sold our home in Melbourne, we thought we’d quickly ‘whip up’ a strawbale shed (6 X 6 metres), so that we would have some storage space for our gear when moving up here.

It seemed like a good idea of mine at the time and now I have no regrets. I love the shed and plan to use it as maybe a craftshop in a few years. However, the lessons learned have added substantially to the ever growing bank of experience and demonstrate two things that I am often asked by my guests: “strawbales and fire and water”. This shed has seen it all, so let me start at the beginning.

Our friends Sue Ewart and Don O’Connor had a strawbale building workshop planned* yet nothing much for the ten or so people to build. Well, isn’t this convenient — a win/win. We had the permit and so Roland took a few days off to excavate, set steel posts and with Don’s help pour the slab for the shed. Thursday.

Walls up quickly

Saturday; the eager crew arrive. We raise the walls on this day, using the threaded rod/compression method this time, to about seven bales high. We set a door and window. The next day Roland and I finish off the last two rows of bales then drive back to Melbourne, rather excited about our progress. Well, probably not quite true: I was excited — look we have walls! Thanks to all these willing hands! Roland was still convinced a corrugated shed should have been the way to go. Well, this would show him, wouldn’t it?! Walls, a whole shed in one weekend! The prefab steel roof trusses were still lying on the ground in front of the shed. There had been no time to spare.

Next weekend

Next Friday night when we arrived here it was dark and raining. Oh dear! It rained and rained weekend after weekend. We tried to cover up my (Roland kept repeating that this should have been a corrugated shed) beautifully stacked walls with whatever we could find. We wrapped them in builders’ plastic, used all kinds of little — and made up — tarps, and pinned all this to the walls with bamboo sticks trying to hold it.

The next Friday night we arrived in the dark, our headlights shining onto a strange sight — some unidentifiable mound, half covered by ripped off sheets and things hanging down, looking as if it had just been attacked by old style ‘cowboy film Indians’. Oops. We would try to save what we could but even if part of the wall covering held, the water in the ‘dam’ kept rising . . . the dam?

The slab had been poured and there had been no time for dwarf walls, only a dampcourse. The water hit the slab, and soaked into and then up and up the walls . . . and still no roof.

By now it had become apparent that, the walls being so high and we being so short and weak, we had ‘Buckleys’ of getting up the trusses. Sometime late in August then with the help of two wonderful friends and a cruiser ute (upon which tray and roof they could stand) the trusses went up, no problem.

Almost no problem

Well, almost. The worms in the wall were having a ball watching. I kept a very low profile and well out of sight. After all, I was rendering the Muse. The bales had pushed the steel uprights out of plumb so that the prefab trusses with the fitting slip-on holes wouldn’t fit anymore. Thank god Danny’s cruiser was a 4WD (still sliding in the mud of the front garden) and finally they pulled the posts into position using the winch.

The shed was then sheeted and Roland fixed a gate. And we had a good look at what was left of our shed. Once closed, there was this smell. What was it? I knew and every time I hear about the perfect compost heap I remember that too. There were more worms in those walls looking cheekily at us than I had seen in all of our time here.

Long discussions, rip it down! The corrugated shed never looked so good. Yet it seemed such a pity. So much fun, hope, worry and stress had already gone into it. After all, we could still rip it down later. My thought was that if we had one weekend to sew wire onto the walls and one weekend with as many friends we could ask, beg or trade for time, we could get some cement render onto the outside, over the top of the bales and inside to about two metres off the slab, leaving the rest exposed . . . then see.

Well, it worked. We covered the walls with two coats of cement, had a roof and a door and moved some stuff in. The walls dried. The worms moved out. I smirked at them as I waved goodbye. I planned to finish off the rest of the internal walls soon, thinking I’d use an earthen render as I did in the ‘Muse’.

Time passes

January. We had just moved in permanently. Now hot, hot, hot with the shed full of stuff. Roland used the grinder at the open gate of the shed. He was about three metres away from the almost fatally affected wall. The sparks hit the still unrendered lower section of wall which, now dry and saved from its composted state and still unrendered, was pretty loose with bits of straw hanging free.

So this is how we learned about fire and bales. The spark took the loose straw and went off. The flame burned a path and sucked itself behind the wire, creating a chimney, pulling itself up. When Roland saw what was happening he emptied three small fire extinguishes and pushed the garden hose up into the ‘chimney. By the time I got there Roland was in shock, the fire was out, there was a new smell (lots of thick old wet smoke — bugger, the compost smell had just gone) and the wall was soaked again.

Roland muttered only: “This wouldn’t have happened with a corrugated iron shed!” Anyway, this is a year and a half ago now. Since then, no more wet, fires, or worms. Some mice, yes, but still no time to finish the render inside. I was busy after finishing the ‘Muse’ with another room for us (hybrid strawbale, infill between the stud walls) and now I am working on a little hexagonal bush cabin, still with my wonderful helper Mark. There will be a bedroom added to it, strawbale of course, what else is there, for me?

The lessons

The lessons added to the ‘experience-bank’ I hold dear. If wet, given time and cover, walls will dry. Try harder not to stress (it greys the hair). Keep bales always well off ground level and prepare your site well. Always have a roof first. Never be rushed. Flames can suck behind the chicken wire (I thought we were pretty tight). Cement render is quicker, yet not nice to work with. Men seem to be able to tolerate cement render better than mud and prefer to use tools (for the straight look). Never use grinders and the like near walls surrounding your trash and treasure. Two coats of cement render hold up pretty well. Wire is expensive, boring to sew on and a pest to work with. It also allows this potential chimney effect to occur. Many hands make light work but are hard to find. Neighbours can be very amused but also tolerant to ‘Indian raids’. I never quite get to ‘whip something up’ — it always takes much longer then I anticipate.

Soon I will have to finish these walls. I am dying to try out a lime putty render without the wire in the shed and at the hexagon . . .

And finally . . . the worms may have me in the end, but this time I beat them. We’ll see who gets the last laugh?!