2008 Vike Täckarting

When we arrived on Saturday morning, the lower half of the roof had already been completed, up to a height at which men on the ground could no longer throw the sawgrass up to the working level using long pitchforks. Unfortunately, this meant I didn't get to see the complex work involved in starting the roof at the eaves. The tractors had giant hydraulic claws on the front, which they used to bring in the åg (sawgrass) from the huge piles outside the barnyard. The tractors would later be used to lift large amounts of grass to the staging platforms above the eaves, where it would be bundled and lifted up chutes to the working level, all by hand.

Piles of åg in the barnyard, with the partially completed roof in the background. The side buildings on the right have a traditional plank roof, which consists of overlapping planks periodically painted over with pine tar. An åg roof would usually only be used on shelters for lower-value items, such as livestock -- high-value items such as farm equipment would be stored in buildings with the more weather-tight plank roofs.

The sawgrass is laid loosely over a structure of staggered poles. Side branches a few inches long are left sticking out of the poles to provide something for the grass to grip. As the grass is placed, part of it is oriented to lie outward from the roof to the outside (i.e.: roughly orthogonal to the poles), and then it is stomped and paddled to compact it. Periodically, braids of sawgrass called vithior are looped around the poles like a winter scarf, with their loose ends buried by successive layers of grass. The vithior in effect "stitch" the grass to the roof's substructure, and will slide down the poles with the grass as it settles over time.

Piles of åg (sawgrass) ready for the roof.

The vidjor really aren't "braids", they are more like yarn in that they are simply twisted out of a pile of loose sawgrass. The sawgrass blades have small hairs or serrations along their edges, which hook them to adjacent blades -- as one twists and pulls, the loose end of the yarn engages additional blades, resulting in a strand of any arbitrary length one desires. The vidjor used on the roof acreage ranged from 4-8 feet and about 3-4 inches across.

The vidjor really aren't "braids", they are more like yarn in that they are simply twisted out of a pile of loose sawgrass. The sawgrass blades have small hairs or serrations along their edges, which hook them to adjacent blades -- as one twists and pulls, the loose end of the yarn engages additional blades, resulting in a strand of any arbitrary length one desires. The vidjor used on the roof acreage ranged from 4-8 feet and about 3-4 inches across.

The vidjor really aren't "braids", they are more like yarn in that they are simply twisted out of a pile of loose sawgrass. The sawgrass blades have small hairs or serrations along their edges, which hook them to adjacent blades -- as one twists and pulls, the loose end of the yarn engages additional blades, resulting in a strand of any arbitrary length one desires. The vidjor used on the roof acreage ranged from 4-8 feet and about 3-4 inches across.

The vidjor really aren't "braids", they are more like yarn in that they are simply twisted out of a pile of loose sawgrass. The sawgrass blades have small hairs or serrations along their edges, which hook them to adjacent blades -- as one twists and pulls, the loose end of the yarn engages additional blades, resulting in a strand of any arbitrary length one desires. The vidjor used on the roof acreage ranged from 4-8 feet and about 3-4 inches across.

The previous work on the roof had reached the limit at which men on the ground could simply throw the sawgrass up to the working level using long pitchforks. Before we could start working, scaffolding platforms had to be built. The tractors could then load the grass on to the platforms, and men on the platforms could bundle it with ropes for lifting up chutes to the work level. Note the vidjor staged on the poles near the middle of the roof.

I gathered that working on the roof was the task of men, and braiding vidjor was the task for women. While the latter task was done by both men and women at this tåckarting , only men were ever up on the barn.

Everything in place and ready to go.

Everything in place and ready to go.

The work level, showing the structure poles, extra vithior , and the middle chute. I didn't know it when I took this picture, but I would end up spending most of the next seven hours or so right there.

Everyone getting into their places. And in case you're wondering, yes, those scaffolds are every bit as flimsy and dangerous as they look. My (American) host remarked that OSHA would shut the project down in an instant if one tried to do it this way in the U.S..

The man in the blue shirt is my host's father, a Gotland native who has been involved in tåckartings since the practice was revived in the 1950s. It's thanks to him that I was allowed onto the roof myself. The man with the yellow workpants is the grandson of the man who led the revival of grass roofs on Gotland in the 1950s. He was something of a foreman for our area of the roof, yelling instructions and periodically checking our work.

I made it up to the roof, but then had no idea what to do. As you can probably guess from his expression, the Man in the Yellow Pants was about to make sure I learned to do it, and the right way. Of course, he didn't speak English, so everything he yelled at me had to be translated by Hans, to my right.

A bundle of grass being readied for lifting up to the work level.

Hans' nephew Bruce, now on the work platform below us, has his job explained to him.