Malinka van der Gaauw talks wood, wheels, tangs and fellies with rare Sussex craftsman, Ben Headon.
Ben Headon is a Sussex-based wheelwright and restorer of traditional horse-drawn agricultural carts and waggons. One of only 11 wheelwrights still working in the UK, he considers himself not just a maker, but a restorer and conservator of a craft that’s quietly vanishing.
A step back in time
Ben’s workshop is near Older Hill, Woolbeding reached by a sunken lane and an unmetalled track, and entering Ben’s world is like turning back the clock. His workshop is a trove of wooden wheels, pieces of time-worn carts, vintage tools, and all the character of a rural life museum – unsurprising, given that many of his pieces are salvaged from such places. There’s something wholesome and grounding about the surroundings. Wood is everywhere, in all its raw and finished forms. The air smells of timber and wood shavings. It’s a place where the past isn’t just remembered but actively maintained.
“Yesterday’s pick-up trucks”
I opened our conversation by asking Ben how traditional wooden carts would fare on today’s pothole-ridden roads. He laughed and told me they’d probably manage better than most modern cars. Wooden wheels, he explained, were designed to handle stress – from rough tracks to heavy loads. Much like how we choose tyres today for different terrains, wheels were also made thicker, thinner, or from different woods depending on their intended use. He described the old carts and wagons as “yesterday’s pick-up trucks” – robust, reliable, and built for function.
The intricate language of wheels
In his workshop, Ben showed me some wheels currently in progress. Each was a meticulous, elegant structure, crafted with precision, and accompanied by a whole vocabulary of terms I’d never come across before: tangs, fellies, strakes, spoke dogs, travellers (not the people), and little giants. I also discovered that “cart” and “wagon” aren’t interchangeable: a cart has two wheels, a wagon four.
But that level of intricacy, in both language and construction, is part of the beauty. The wheel is both tactile and useful, technical and aesthetic – made up of multiple components that only truly come together in the final push. If one part is even slightly off, the whole structure can fail. It’s a lesson in harmony, and in trust, the kind of precision that only comes from deep experience.
Ben’s journey into wheelwrighting began in forestry, where he gained an intimate knowledge of different woods – a crucial foundation for the work he now does. Different parts of a wheel demand different properties. The hub is made from elm as its springy, twisted grain handles pressure from all angles. The spokes are usually made from oak for its long, straight grain, while the fellies, which form the outer rim, are always made from ash due to its shock-absorbing properties and flexibility.
However, sourcing suitable materials has become a challenge. Not only have diseases like Ash Dieback and Dutch Elm Disease reduced supply, but Ben said that the timber industry today prioritises materials for construction and interiors, not traditional craft.
A custodian of knowledge
Despite the challenges, Ben remains remarkably positive. He sees his role as more than just a wheelwright; he’s a custodian of knowledge, hoping to inspire others to care about this intricate, meaningful trade. To that end, Ben is thinking about opening his doors to visitors with a series of wheelwrighting information sessions at his workshop, offering people the chance to see his tools, watch a wheel being made, and explore a fascinating collection of rural heritage items that surround and support his craft.
Malinka van der Gaauw is a walking guide, knowledge forager and reader of the Western Weald landscape. She is also the founder of Rural Strides, which offers private and scheduled guided walks, as well as self-guided routes in the Western Weald.
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