“What is a waller?” the stranger asked after seeing the side of my work truck in the parking lot. This happens a few times a year, normally just after I tell a stranger what I do for a living. I’ll be at table in some diner, and soon enough I’m talking to a new face. It’s typical and I enjoy talking about rock any time I get a chance. After pulling a business card from my shirt pocket and handing over, I said. “Basically, I build stone walls and other stone structures without mortar.”
More often than not, they will take a long time to look at the card. Suspicious, as if I’m selling a once in a lifetime opportunity. A pause and then respond with the question,
“No mortar? Nothing?” he said. “What holds it together?”
Now it’s so common that I’ve come to welcome the chance to talk about the craft. To me, the best reply is to say that you fit all the stones together in a certain way, and the structure will stand a long time. If they haven’t already, they are sitting down at my table, so I put away whatever I am reading and give them my attention.
“It’s like putting a puzzle together?” he asked. And that would be true, but walling has one advantage over puzzles. I can cut the piece to fit a picture. And the picture is in my head, not on a box. Most people would think I have patience. Nothing could be further from the truth. I crave constant action Thinking about each stone, over and over, I ponder the next spot in the wall while hand-cutting a stone with my hammer.
Cutting a stone requires some ability to reason what will or will not happen with this hammer when it’s used this way or that. The possible results from my tools are vast. I have an arsenal of pitches, points, carbides, light and heavy hammers, and sledgehammers.
Selecting as stone is another mind-blowing challenge. Once you pick that stone, you use it. I’ve told many people that it’s like playing chess. Once your finger is off that stone, you can’t take it off. Otherwise you will never make a living walling. Your mind plays that game all day with the stones. You size up stones, looking at perfections and imperfections. You turn a stone over and over, asking the questions quietly:
“What’s the best face? What side is most level? Will that crack or bump be a problem later in the wall?”
Constantly asking questions will save picking up a stone until it’s time to be used. You can waste a great deal of time lifting up stones over and over, just to put them down. Once I do pick up that stone, I will size it up with my fingers, using my hands much like a second set of eyes. The stone tells me a great deal about its self. I hate gloves.
Holding out until I’ve gotten mild frostbite on a few fingers, I’ve walled without gloves as late at Christmas, just so I can “see the stones.”
Texture and density are seen with the fingers as well as the eyes, better perhaps. Once I’ve held that stone in my hands and decided it’s fate, I’ll draw up one of my hammers and remove any unwanted parts of the stone. Reading the stone with the hands and eyes, I line up the shot, deciding the proper English for the hammer blow and the proper angle the stone will on impact. In the bat of any eye, chips and dust fill the air, and, in the blink of an eye, I’ll know if I should do it again, drop the stone and start over, change the angle of the strike or place the stone. Ringing hammers, stone dust, and the clack of rock has hooked me emotionally.
Setting a stone into the wall the proper way is as much about feel as anything else. Sure, I can tell you how and why a stone goes into a wall as it does. You can (and many do) place a stone incorrectly. Yet when a stone is placed into the wall, the hands tell the mind how stable the stone lays. When looking at the stone in its bed, most wallers I know will still have a hand on that stone and look down. In part, it keeps the mason connected to the stone. If the stone seems suitable, the process is repeated for a few more stones. Then the waller will retreat five or so steps, cross his arms and lean back, looking at the group.
Each stone is placed into the work and packed with small chips from the stones that have been shaped. All the stone goes into the work. Step back, cross your arms and lean backward to stretch your body. You are looking for daylight and problems in the work. What stone may be out of line? How can I make this better? Do I see any gaps or stones I don’t like? How can I make this better?
Walls grow. Stone by stone you begin to see a product come to life from your mind’s eye to the eyes of anyone who will see it. It’s as subtle as crocus, or leaves in the fall, but at it comes to life as it becomes taller and longer. Selecting and deciding over and over, making new and unique choices with each stone puts the body into a rhythm.
It’s a working mediation, like yoga with hammers. Whenever the choices get hard, I pick up a few handfuls of packing chips from the ground and place them over and over, one at a time into the cracks and spaces to keep out even the smallest bee. In this state of mind I can ignore anything. Cars whipping past or street noise. In this state of mind, all stress is gone I leave it in the wall. I leave the small stuff with the packing. I leave the hard problems with the wall stones. Walling gives me the ability to think clearly. Working with my hands and mind together puts life into prospective, but being brought out of this mental state is like a slap in the face to a soundly sleeping man. I cannot wall when I have too many issues. My troubles can’t reveal themselves in work done for others. Untold stress finds its way into the hammer blows and the judgment, leaving behind ragged and angry cuts and edges on the stone. I do not judge the stones well when emotional. I misjudge my tools; I don’t swing as well or I miss judge a stone in a way that breaks it in half.
Leaving bad work behind is like leaving permanent litter on the job. Dry stone walls stand for a long time, so they will look stressed and unhappy for years. But to leave behind the day-to-day stress of life in the wall, keeps the mind clear and the walls should look pleasant, almost effortless.
Stones cut on a clear mind come out right; they should lay better in the wall. To build a wall without mortar, one must have a clear conscience.
gh I’m talking to a new face. It’s typical and I enjoy talking about rock any time I get a chance. After pulling a business card from my shirt pocket and handing over, I said. “Basically, I build stone walls and other stone structures without mortar.”
ow if I should do it again, drop the stone and start over, change the angle of the strike or place the stone. Ringing hammers, stone dust, and the clack of rock has hooked me emotionally. 
