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.

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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.
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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.

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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.

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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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