Hello everyone,

I’d like to share a project I completed some time ago—a Galilee boat from around 40–50 BC, built at 1:24 scale. It was a very enjoyable build, mainly because of its historical background and straightforward construction.

I think it’s always important to mention the story behind a model, and this kit comes from SE Miller Guitars, owned by Scott Miller:
http://www.semillerguitars.com/sea-of-galilee-boats/

He originally developed this model after researching the Kinneret boat discovery, using plans published by Shelly Wachsmann.
Starting from a small 16" scratch-built version, his work gained recognition after winning Gold Awards at a model competition, which eventually led him to produce these kits for others to build.

What I liked most about this model is how it combines history with a simple, hands-on building approach—something different from more complex ships.
I hope you find it interesting, and I’ll be glad to share more details of the build.

Julian 😎

This boat is currently preserved and displayed at the Yigal Allon Museum.
In the last picture, I noticed a mosaic artwork in the background that appears to depict a Phoenician-style vessel, which I found quite interesting.

Since there is limited detailed information available about the Galilee boat itself, I based much of my research on similar vessels from the Phoenician, Greek, and Roman periods to better understand construction methods and overall design.

While there is no evidence that this was the exact boat used by Jesus and his disciples, it dates to the same time period—around the 1st century AD—and closely matches the type of working boats used in that region.
😎

Without further ado—and humbly tipping my hat to LyleK1—here is the start of my building log.

I’ll begin with the kit contents.

This is a strongback-style kit, with the base provided in two sections. As you can see in the photos, Scott has meticulously marked all the parts, making identification very straightforward.

The step-by-step instructions come on a CD. I printed all 54 pages so I could have them handy at the bench.

When I first opened the kit, I was really impressed to see that all of the hull planks were already tapered. That detail truly blew my mind. After so much experimentation, Scott clearly arrived at the perfect tapering for this build.
So, as I mentioned before, this is a very approachable kit—as long as you follow his instructions carefully.
😎

This is the strongback mounted on its base.
You really have to read the instructions carefully, because there’s only one correct way to assemble it.

The last two pictures show an idea I came up with after I had to remove the hull due to not following the instructions properly.
I ended up asking Scott for more planks, and he kindly supplied them for a few extra dollars.
What I did was add wax paper over the frame forms so the glue wouldn’t stick to them. That way, if I ever want to reuse the strongback for another model, it will stay intact—and it worked perfectly.
😎

These are just a few of the many images that helped me decide how to approach building the model. Besides that, they all gave me a bit of inspiration along the way.

The first one is, of course, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt van Rijn. It’s a powerful scene, but you can notice that the artist took some liberties—like adding a flag to the boat. As far as historians can tell, fishing boats of that time didn’t carry flags.

Still, these images capture something deeper than just historical detail. They reflect moments like those described in the Gospels, when Jesus calmed the storm and strengthened the faith of his disciples (Mark 4:39). That sense of struggle, trust, and calm after the storm is what I tried to keep in mind while working on the model.
😎

After making a jig to help shape the parts, I decided to experiment with a darker wood for the stern and keel. In theory it sounded like a good idea… in practice, not so much. It just didn’t look right, so I went back to the original mahogany pieces that came with the kit.

Lesson learned—sometimes the kit designers knew exactly what they were doing from the start.

😎

And no… don’t try this at home, kids 😄

Unfortunately, I don’t have photos of how I first started the planking, so I’m including a few reference images from the manual to show the initial steps.

After the hull was fully planked, I started the long process of fairing and smoothing everything out.
At that stage, the overall shape of the boat really began to come alive, and I could finally appreciate those beautiful Galilee boat lines.

The bow and stern needed a bit more careful attention to get both sides looking even and balanced. That was probably the trickiest part, but little by little it all came together.

Looking at these photos now, I still think the designer did an excellent job with the plank layout.
Once sanded, the hull flows very naturally from end to end, and the shape looks just right to my eye.

At this point, the model was still on the strongback, but it was already giving a very good idea of how elegant the finished boat would look.

😎

At this point, I went ahead and coated the entire outside of the hull with CA glue, following the instructions from the manufacturer. I know—it might sound a little crazy, but I figured I’d give it a try and see how it turns out.

They mention that the CA will soak into all the joints and seams, helping to strengthen the hull and also even out the color of the wood. With all the planking lines, that actually makes a lot of sense.

To apply it, I wrapped a small disposable brush with wax paper and used that to spread the glue around—just like they suggested. Surprisingly, it works pretty well and gives decent control.

We all have our own ways of doing things, but every now and then it’s fun to try something different from one build to another.
😎

Next step—time for a very tedious job: adding the 34 partial frames.

To keep everything evenly spaced, I made a styrene strip that works as a guide, which really helps with consistency.

During the process, and because of the hull curvature, I noticed the hull wanted to pull out of shape, so I added a temporary center brace to keep everything aligned.

You can also see in one of the pictures that I installed the davits as a single piece running through the hull, instead of two separate pieces on each side like the manual suggests.
I think this gives it a much stronger and more reliable setup.

The last pictures show the framing for the stern platform starting to take shape.
Slow work, but it’s coming together.

😎

Next I added the platform base between the partial frames. I used scrap planking pieces fitted between the frames to create a solid foundation for the platform.

To finish the edges cleanly, I added strips of the same partial frame material along the inside, then ran an outer strip to cover any remaining gaps. This really helps give the decking a much more refined, finished look.

NOTE:
This type of construction is believed to be very similar to ancient vessels like the Greek merchant ship from around 900 BCE discovered off the north coast of Crete, known as the Kyrenia boat, as well as earlier Phoenician trading vessels dating back to around 1400 BCE.

A great reference on this topic is Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks by J. Richard Steffy—an excellent resource if you’re diving into research on these early vessels.

😎

THE STERN

Picture 1:
This is the preparation for the extension of the stern. The kit included a pre-cut piece, but based on the references and renderings I’ve gathered, it looked a bit too short. I decided to make my own piece to better match the proportions.

Picture 2:
Here you can see the stern extension piece being test-fitted and aligned. I used a small pin to temporarily hold it in place while checking the fit and angles before final gluing.

Picture 3:
This shows the completed stern extension after shaping and blending it into the hull lines. The transition came out smooth and matches the look I was aiming for based on my references.

CUTWATER (BOW)

The instructions suggest using a note card to trace the bow profile and then drawing your own cutwater shape. After creating and installing mine, I realized it was slightly too long, so I reshaped it to better match the hull lines and achieve a more balanced look.

😎

I just came across these photos online from the “Peter’s Boat” docks at the Pope’s Museums, on display along The Way of the Sea.

I only wish I’d seen them while I was building my model.
😎

During my research on rigging pins, I came across these photos online.

The first appears to be from a Norwegian antique boat.
The other two are from a full-scale reconstruction of the Galilee Boat carried out many years ago at Kibbutz Ein Gev.

After giving it some thought, I decided to make my own version of the rigging pins, as I wasn’t too keen on the simple dowels supplied with the kit.

😎

Since the surviving and recovered lower hull framing of the disinterred boat only provides in-situ evidence of the construction up to a certain point—and with little to no information about the upper hull beyond those last frames and strakes—I had to rely on comparative research to fill in the gaps.

In particular, I looked into the arrangement of the oar locks.
After searching online, I found several examples from vintage reconstructions and museum pieces of Phoenician trade boats dating back to the 14th century BCE.

Although not identical, they offered useful clues about possible shapes and configurations.

Based on those references, I came up with my own interpretation of what the oar locks might have looked like. It’s a bit of an informed guess, but one that I feel stays true to the spirit and function of the original vessel.

😎

For the deck boards, I found a nice piece of walnut and proceeded to do quite a bit of ripping on my Proxxon table saw.

For this type of fishing vessel, it made sense to have some sort of deck for the fishermen to move around while working.

You can also see in this photo that I used rosewood for the cap rails. To shape them to the proper curve, I made a simple jig.
After soaking the strips in water for about an hour, I clamped them to the jig and let them dry, which gave very nice results.

I also made a squared mast step, as shown here.

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Creating the mast, thwarts/seats, and spar.

After reviewing the doctoral work of Richard J. Whitwright—along with earlier research and period iconography—it seems that mast and yard construction often depended on vessel size and sail area.

Larger vessels likely used composite masts, while smaller ones would have simpler, single-piece spars.

Given the relatively small size of the Galilee boat, I opted for a single-piece mast and yard. After some research and consideration, this is my interpretation.
😎

The Rudders

This is a summary of my own interpretation of the rudders after reviewing a variety of sources. In the end, this is the version I chose to build.

The first image is a technical drawing developed by several researchers, based on a model of a Roman trade ship.
That model, in turn, was reconstructed from a wreck discovered off the coast of Elba, believed to date to the 1st century B.C.

I used this reference primarily for shaping the hand tiller and overall arrangement.

Additionally, evidence from ancient wrecks—particularly those found off the coast of Israel—shows that pieces of lead were used in two ways: as counterbalance weights near the handles of long steering oars, and as flat strips attached to the lower part of the rudder blades to help keep them submerged.

Taking all this into account, I incorporated both features into my version.
😎

Shape of the oars.

As expected, reliable references are scarce, so I had to rely on a combination of historical depictions and a bit of interpretation.

The first image (mosaic) shows a fairly broad blade, almost rectangular with softened edges.
The relief carving, however, suggests something slightly more elongated and refined.
Then, looking at modern reconstructions, you can see a more hydrodynamic, leaf-shaped blade being used.

Taking all of that into account, I sketched a few possible profiles to compare proportions and transitions from shaft to blade.

From those sketches, I made a few test pieces to see how each option would look in scale and in wood. This step really helped, as what looks right on paper doesn’t always translate well in three dimensions.

After comparing them, I settled on a more elongated, slightly rounded blade.
It feels like a reasonable compromise between the historical representations and practical aesthetics.

Here are the test pieces and the final result mounted on the hull.
😎

Now comes what is probably the most tedious part of building an ancient ship… the rigging.

With very little reliable information available, this part becomes more about interpretation than strict accuracy.
I tried to keep things as simple and functional as possible, avoiding anything that felt overly complex or “modern” in appearance.

Most of the work focused on basic standing and running lines—nothing fancy, just what would have been necessary to support the mast and control the sail.
The lashings around the mast partners and thwarts were done with that in mind, trying to keep a slightly rough, hand-worked look rather than something too clean or uniform.

The small blocks were kept simple as well, and I avoided overcomplicating the arrangements. At this scale, less really does seem to work better.

One thing that stood out during this stage is how much the rigging starts to bring the model to life.
Even a few lines add depth and a sense of purpose to what was previously just structure.

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves—you’ll understand what I mean.
😎

THE SAIL:

I also have to confess that, at this stage, I had never done any sewing before. So I grabbed an old pillowcase and started practicing until I found a stitch length and spacing that looked right for the scale.

That little experiment helped a lot—it gave me a better feel for how the machine behaves and what looks convincing at this size.

To match the material of the thread with the sailcloth, I went to my local fabric shop and picked up some premium muslin (100% cotton), along with cotton thread. While I was there, I bought two slightly different tones—one with a denser texture than the other—to see which one would look more appropriate in scale.

Step-by-step process:

Material selection
The muslin I chose has a fine weave that works well for scale sails. The cotton thread matches the fabric, which should help avoid any distortion over time.
Cutting and marking
After measuring the sail, I added extra material all around for folding. The edges were marked carefully to keep everything straight and even.

Folding the edges
Each side was folded over to create a clean hem.
The corners required a bit more attention to keep them neat and not too bulky.

First stitching pass
Using the sewing machine, I stitched along the folded edges. This step defines the perimeter and gives the sail its structure.

Trimming and refining
Any excess material was trimmed carefully to keep the edges tidy and proportional.

Final edge stitching
A second pass of stitching reinforces the edges and improves the overall appearance.

Panel lines (to simulate sail cloth strips)
Once the sail was complete, I added parallel stitching lines across the surface to represent the individual cloth panels. This detail really brings the sail to life.

Reference check
The final layout was compared against reference drawings to keep the spacing and proportions as close as possible.
Regarding the last two images (13 and 13a), these were particularly helpful. They clearly show the arrangement of the sail panels and the reinforcement layout, which guided the spacing of the stitched lines and overall proportions of the sail.
😎

One recommendation is that you may want to wash, dry, and iron the cloth first to remove the sizing in the fabric.

In my case, I also wanted to give the sail a more natural, used tone. I soaked the cloth overnight in Hawaiian coffee, and it turned out to be a very nice color.
I really like the result—it now has some character, and the tone matches well with the wood of the boat.

I added a double stitch along the lower section of the sail to represent the bottom panel, and also double-seamed the edges, following the reference pictures.

Coloring the bolt rope:
Going through my stash of mini rope, I found one that worked well in scale, but the color was too light. To fix that, I mixed a wash using two different browns to darken it.
I left the rope soaking overnight, then dried it with paper towels and let it air dry completely.

For reference, I used a photo of a reconstructed ancient vessel (similar to Kyrenia II, seen from the bow), which helped guide the overall look of the sail.

This is what I came up with.
Next step – sewing the bolt rope:

The rope is sewn all around the perimeter of the sail.
It’s a seam that doesn’t go through the rope itself, but rather secures it along its sides.
At the corners, the rope forms loops (almost like a figure-eight) that continue along the entire edge. These loops are later used to adjust the tension of the sail.

In my case, I passed the stitches through the bolt rope itself and kept them very close together. In total, there are about 560 hand stitches around the sail.

I also made the head and clew cringles.
It may not be perfect, but I’m happy with how it looks.

Correction on the clew cringles:

According to a fellow modeler, my original Clew Wrinkles (the diagonal folds or lines that radiate out from the corners) were incorrect because they were left open.
This would not be practical, since under load (when the sail fills with wind), the force could pull them apart or tear them from the sail edge.
To correct this, I made four new closed cringles, removed the original ones, and replaced them with the proper closed versions.
The last picture shows the adjusted clew cringles.
😎

Adding more realism to the sail

I know there are many ways to make sails look “filled,” but I came up with this somewhat odd-looking contraption to help me achieve the effect I was after.

First, I built a simple jig using a flat base and four vertical posts. The idea was to have anchor points where I could tension the sail into a natural curve.

Next, I attached the yard and secured the sail corners with lines to the posts.
By adjusting the tension on each corner, I was able to create a relaxed, wind-filled shape rather than a flat surface.

Once I was happy with the overall form, I prepared a 70/30 mix of white glue and water and brushed it into the cloth. This helped stiffen the sail and lock in the shape.

I then placed the whole setup outside in the Florida sun. With the heat, it dried very quickly—just a few minutes.

After the first coat dried, I diluted the same mixture further to about 85% water and 15% glue. This thinner mix allowed me to spray both the front and back of the sail without removing it from the jig, helping to even out the stiffness and avoid buildup.

I kept paper towels handy to absorb any excess and prevent puddling, especially in the low areas of the sail.

Once everything was fully dry, I removed the sail from the jig.
The shape held nicely, with a natural sag and fullness that gives it a much more realistic appearance.

Final results.
Not too bad.
I am happy with the shape.
😎

Next, I wanted to add a bit more life to the model by including some loose items onboard—similar to what was actually found in the real disinterred Galilee boat.

Among the finds were a clay pot, a lamp, coins, and a number of iron nails.

I’ll start with a reference photo of the real artifacts, followed by my attempt at reproducing them.

To begin, I picked up a few different sized clay pots from MiniArt. They are nice little pieces, but needed some work to better resemble the more primitive look of the originals.

The first step was modifying their shapes.
Using a small rotary tool and sanding sticks, I reduced some of the sharper edges and refined the profiles to make them look more hand-made and less “factory perfect.”

For the lamp, I reshaped one of the smaller pots, lowering the profile and forming a simple spout. It took a bit of trial and error, but eventually I got something that felt closer to the archaeological examples.

Next came detailing.
I added small imperfections and slight asymmetry to give each piece a more authentic, used appearance. Nothing too exaggerated—just enough to break the uniformity.
Once I was happy with the shapes, I moved on to painting. I used earthy tones to replicate the look of fired clay, building up layers gradually.
A light dusting of pigment helped tone everything down and blend the colors.

For the small oil lamp, I scratch-built it from styrene, shaping and sanding it down to size before adding a simple attachment loop.

Finally, everything was placed loosely in the boat to see how it all came together.

It’s a small detail, but I think it adds a lot of character and helps tell the story.
😎

Next item on the agenda were the four small bags included with the kit.

At first glance, I assumed the designer intended these to represent some kind of ballast.
However, after looking a bit deeper into how these boats actually worked, that idea didn’t quite hold up.

For the small wooden fishing boats used on the Sea of Galilee in the 1st century, there’s no solid archaeological or textual evidence suggesting they carried loose ballast such as sandbags or stones.

What we do know—especially from the excavated “Sea of Galilee boat”—is that these vessels were naturally stable by design.
They had a broad beam and shallow draft, which provided inherent stability without the need for added ballast.

Stability mainly came from:
Hull shape and width
Crew positioning
Gear and catch acting as incidental weight.

Fishermen would constantly adjust balance by shifting themselves or their equipment, rather than relying on fixed ballast.

In fact, loose ballast like sand or stones would likely create more problems than it solves:

It could shift in rough water and destabilize the boat.
It would take up valuable working space.
It adds unnecessary weight to a vessel meant to remain light and maneuverable.

That led me to rethink what these “bags” could represent.
I decided instead to tie them into a small but interesting biblical detail. In Mark 4:38 it says:
“But he was in the stern, sleeping on the pillow…”
The Greek word used there is proskephalaion, which simply means “something for the head”—a headrest or cushion—so there’s a bit of room for interpretation.

That “pillow” could have been:
A folded cloak or bundle of clothing
A coil of rope or soft gear
A simple padded sack used by the helmsman

So I went down that route.
First, I stained the cloth using espresso coffee (had to put it to good use…).
Once dry, I hand-sewed the bags, filled them with sand fixed with diluted glue, and closed them up to dry. This gave them a nice natural sag and weight.

Since Mark 4:38 also tells us Jesus was in the stern, I placed two of these sacks there as makeshift headrests.

As for where He stood when calming the storm—again, the simplest reading is that He rose from the stern and addressed the wind and sea from within the boat, likely without moving far from that position.
Small detail, but it adds a bit of narrative to the model.
😎

Next, I wanted to add a bit more life to the model by including some loose items onboard—similar to what was actually found in the real disinterred Galilee boat.
Among the finds were a clay pot, a lamp, coins, and a number of iron nails. (first picture)

I’ll start with a reference photo of the real artifacts, followed by my attempt at reproducing them.

To begin, I picked up a few different sized clay pots from MiniArt. They are nice little pieces, but needed some work to better resemble the more primitive look of the originals.
The first step was modifying their shapes.
Using a small rotary tool and sanding sticks, I reduced some of the sharper edges and refined the profiles to make them look more hand-made and less “factory perfect.”

For the lamp, I reshaped one of the smaller pots, lowering the profile and forming a simple spout. It took a bit of trial and error, but eventually I got something that felt closer to the archaeological examples.

Next came detailing.
I added small imperfections and slight asymmetry to give each piece a more authentic, used appearance. Nothing too exaggerated—just enough to break the uniformity.

Once I was happy with the shapes, I moved on to painting.
I used earthy tones to replicate the look of fired clay, building up layers gradually.
A light dusting of pigment helped tone everything down and blend the colors.

For the small white piece, I scratch-built it from styrene, shaping and sanding it down to size before adding a simple attachment loop.

Finally, everything was placed loosely in the boat to see how it all came together.
It’s a small detail, but I think it adds a lot of character and helps tell the story.
😎

Sorry guys, I just can't delete the second posting.
😎

These are the final results after completing all the rigging.
I’m really pleased with how it all came together.

It’s now sitting in an acrylic case, waiting to be transported to a Bible museum.

I hope you’ve enjoyed following this build as much as I’ve enjoyed working on it.
😎

I just wanted to add this AI picture with my model. I think is amazing.