"The stone axe is a tool that carved the shape of our ancestors' world." Interview with experimental archaeologist and seafarer Radomír Tichý

Estimated reading time: 27–30 minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

Did you know from childhood that you wanted to become an archaeologist?

When I was little, I wanted to be a dustman. Then, a traveler, which was a bit closer. But honestly, I'm a homebody. That might not seem obvious, but I only go abroad a few times a year. Preparation takes up much more time.

But yes, when I was eleven, I went to the scientific library and brought back a full backpack of books by Eduard Štorch, not just novels but also his writings on history education reform. I read them all over the summer holidays. Even then, I was fascinated by the difference between prehistory and archaeology. Prehistory is our idea of what things were like; archaeology works with broken objects to help us shape that idea.

So, prehistory was always my goal. But I had no idea there was even a workplace where I could do that. After finishing school, I started teaching at a university, initially not in Hradec. I was drawn to working with students, and from the beginning, we dove into what we now call experimental archaeology. And that's been more than thirty years.

Thirty years have also passed since the first famous Monoxylon expedition, which introduced experimental archaeology to the public in a captivating way. Before we dive into the expeditions, could you briefly explain the key differences between standard and experimental archaeology?

 

Archaeology is a field encompassing a variety of approaches and methods. Some are more mathematically oriented, others use IT technologies. One of these approaches is the archaeological experiment. But the core of archaeology remains the same: we find broken, often fragmentary objects from the past.

It's now widely accepted that these finds don't reach us in their original living contexts or how they were used in everyday life. That's why we try to find ways to understand them anew. One way is through experimental archaeology.

In practice, this means making replicas of these original objects, because we can no longer fully work with the originals. We then examine the technological and functional properties of the replicas and how they were made, used, and worn down. This helps us better understand the factual findings.

To the public, experimental archaeology often seems livelier and more attractive. It's something you can watch and experience with your senses, it tells a story. Sometimes, this may seem slightly unfair to archaeologists who spend hours with analytical instruments or computers, but that's how it is. Every method has its place and value.

Media coverage of the Monoxylon expeditions often states that the voyage itself is the archaeological experiment. But if I understand correctly, a long phase of boat construction precedes the actual voyage. Isn't the journey just part of, or perhaps the culmination of, the experiment?

 

Exactly. An archaeological experiment can vary in scope. You could treat it as just the voyage itself, in which case, you could have the boat built with modern tools since construction wouldn't be part of the objective. But if you aim to create a replica that matches the original in all essential aspects, you must respect the "harsh" authenticity rules. That's what our experiment is all about.

With Monoxylon, we've gradually tried to reach the actual form of prehistoric dugout canoes. The first boat we built without knowledge of a specific archaeological find, it hadn't been published yet. We used the second canoe for two expeditions, and it was already closer to the original but still lacked full length and proportions.

Only on the third attempt, in 2022, did we build a canoe that fully matched the archaeological find from Italy's Lake Bracciano. It had the correct length, width, and height of the sides, and it turned out to be not only fast but also highly buoyant, critical qualities at sea. All of this shows that an experiment has multiple phases: from choosing the material and tools to the actual building and finally to the voyage itself. When you approach it as a so-called complex experiment, you can gain results closest to reality, but at the cost of great effort and patience.

Were all the Monoxylon canoes built by hand, using replicas of prehistoric tools?

 

Yes, at least partially. We even built one canoe using the burning-out technique, a method often considered in prehistoric boatbuilding. We manually worked a portion of the hull for the other two, specifically about a three-meter interior section. That might not sound like much, but we're talking about several cubic meters of wood.

With the last and largest canoe, we gained a critical insight. At first, we tried shaping the wood by chipping away fibers with a stone axe. But given the size of the trunk, that proved inefficient. At some point, I realized we had to change our approach. Instead of small fibers, we started cutting away whole chunks of wood. That turned out to be far more productive. It was a significant procedural shift. Of course, we couldn't carve the entire canoe this way due to time constraints and other duties, but those sections gave us enough data for evaluation.

The first canoe was made from poplar, and the others were made from oak. I assume that's due to the prehistoric oak monoxyl found in Italy. How did you choose materials and plan the build?

 

Yes, the first canoe was poplar. At the time, we didn't yet have access to the Bracciano find. Once it was published, we adapted our subsequent builds to it. Having a specific archaeological model is essential in experimental archaeology.

Thor Heyerdahl is a well-known name often associated with experimental archaeology. Some experts are critical of his experiments, perhaps rightly so, since his vessels weren't always based on specific finds. But I greatly respect such figures and never speak critically of Heyerdahl. His efforts had their value.

Similarly, some prehistoric vessels made from bundles of reeds or other materials aren't archaeologically attested, they simply didn't survive in the ground. In contrast, a dugout canoe is a type of vessel that can be preserved in the archaeological record. Since we have a well-preserved find from Bracciano, we can study its shape, properties, buoyancy, speed, and stability. Unfortunately, other finds from the Mediterranean, such as those from Greece or Italy, aren't in good enough condition to serve as models.

Monoxylon IV: "The Story of the King of Mochov"

The Monoxylon IV expedition concluded in July 2023. This voyage was subtitled "The Story of the King of Mochov." People sometimes jokingly call Hradec Králové "Mechov," but I assume that's unrelated?

 

That's a good question, and no, it has nothing to do with Hradec Králové. The tree we used to build the boat grew in the forests near Mochov, a secluded place near České Meziříčí. The oak was truly majestic and was nicknamed "the King" in the forest. We adopted that name for the canoe, it felt dignified and fitting.

I'd like to point out that the tree didn't fall due to logging but simply due to old age. Yet the wood inside was still healthy and suitable for construction. We must thank the forest management company owned by the Colloredo-Mannsfeld family for donating the trunk. So "The King of Mochov" is really a tribute to that tree and its place of origin.

We also recently returned from a maritime archaeology conference in Greece, where we learned that even ancient ships, such as Greek triremes, had names, often prestigious ones. So, our choice of name fits right into ancient traditions.

How do you plan the voyage? Who makes up the crew, and how do you choose the route?

 

For the third Monoxylon expedition, we started rotating two crews. This doesn't conflict with the principles of archaeological experimentation because the main object of study is always the replica, the boat itself. We observe its behavior at sea and its properties. Ironically, the human element, the crew, is the weakest link in the experiment because we are modern people. We can't fully embody the experience or physical characteristics of prehistoric sailors.

Still, the more often someone sails, the more experience they gain beyond anything they initially imagined. We didn't even use weather forecasts during the early expeditions, which sounds almost crazy today. On the first voyage, for example, we encountered two of the three most extreme zones in the Aegean Sea. At one point, our escort vessel had to tow us.

Over time, we learned to read the wind and waves and to understand what the sea is "saying." Today, we plan the route considering the natural conditions we want to test that year and the ones we feel capable of facing. We also take historical contexts into account. For example, we've often followed hypothetical obsidian transport routes, obsidian being a volcanic glass that played a similar role to flint in prehistory, especially around the Mediterranean. Archaeological finds indicate where this material occurred and how it might have spread, which inspires our route planning.

So, route exploration is also part of the experiment?

 

Absolutely. An experiment means trial and error. It was the same in prehistory. People learned through trial and error from a very young age and still do today. Think of the proverbial "touching a hot stove" or "sticking your tongue to a frozen railing", those are some of humanity's earliest experiments.

Every child builds their understanding of the world through their own trials. And it was no different in prehistory. People tested their limits, what others could handle, and where the boundaries were. And we do the same today during expeditions, testing the limits of ourselves and the boat. That principle hasn't changed.

What are the biggest obstacles at sea? Is it mainly the weather?

 

Weather is certainly a key factor. Unfortunately, it's not just natural conditions that affect the experiment today. In 1995, we were detained several times in the Aegean Sea due to tensions between Greece and Turkey. That tension persists, sometimes stronger or weaker, but military vessels constantly patrol the area. That, too, is part of the reality we step into.

Then there's also the human factor within the expedition. People bring their personalities. If someone is non-confrontational, they're welcome. But someone has to take responsibility, and someone else has to follow. I don't want this to sound exaggerated, but survival is on the line in some situations. In those moments, you have to be prepared to give your all.

You're listed as the "chief" on the expeditions. Why not "captain"?

 

That has a fairly simple explanation. Every one of our expeditions has an escort vessel, which must have a captain. According to modern maritime law, this position is strictly defined and irreplaceable. If I were to call myself the captain of the replica vessel, we'd end up in the absurd situation of having two captains on the same expedition.

So, we chose the title "chief" to distinguish the roles. I've actually used the term since high school when we organized our first "prehistoric" camps. It stuck with me and carried over into Monoxylon. There's no more profound symbolism behind it, more of a personal tradition.

Do the crew members also call you "chief" outside the expeditions?

 

Sometimes, yes. For example, when there were several people named Radek together, which happened, the term "chief" served as a practical way to tell us apart. So, in some circles, it's still in use today.

Monoxylon III: "The Obsidian Journey"

In 2019, you conducted the Monoxylon III expedition, during which you reinstalled a sail on the boat. You had tested a sail already during the first expedition, though not very successfully. What prompted you to try it again, and what was the outcome?

 

The main reason was that we hadn't tested the sail nearly as thoroughly as we'd wanted. And there's still room to keep testing its use. At sea, you quickly realize that wind is a major variable. It can be an obstacle but also a tremendous aid.

I'm convinced that Stone Age people must have figured out, sooner or later, how to use wind to their advantage. I sometimes say that even just raising a handkerchief at sea can help you. Undoubtedly, wind was perceived as a force that could be harnessed. Some experts may question whether people of that time had the mental capacity to plan and use a sail. But I'm an optimist. Anyone who's been on the sea stops doubting the power of the wind.

Sail technology development is also essential, as evidenced by the fact that sails keep pushing further back in time. Initially, we dated them to the second millennium BCE, but now there's evidence even for the fourth millennium. Our expeditions are set even earlier, into the seventh millennium BCE. Still, it makes sense to test a sail. Its presence can fundamentally change the nature of the voyage. And it can always be lowered, making it easy to compare both versions. It would be a mistake not to try.

Does sailing with a sail require a different type of skill or knowledge from the crew than rowing without one?

 

Absolutely. The crew is essentially divided into roles. Most are rowers, but even among them, there are specializations, such as the "hooks," which operate the canoe's bow. Then there's the helmsman and the group responsible for the sail. We sometimes call them "able seamen."

The sail has to be managed, its direction adjusted, tension set correctly, hoisted, or lowered. And all of that has to happen quickly and in coordination. When strong wind and high waves are involved, any hesitation can tilt the boat or cause a loss of control. Handling the sail, therefore, requires experience, training, and a well-coordinated team.

Your expeditions often follow hypotheses about the transport of obsidian, which is even the theme of Monoxylon III, "The Obsidian Journey." How important was this material in the Stone Age? What was it used for?

 

Obsidian is a fascinating material. Its main "disadvantage," which is also its advantage, is that it's found almost exclusively on islands, making it rare. It also has striking aesthetic qualities, sometimes more striking than flint, though I don't want to underplay or insult our local flint.

In the Mediterranean, there are areas where obsidian is abundant in archaeological finds, meaning it was well-transported. It had to be replaced with local materials, such as flint in other regions. Inland Europe has its own obsidian sources, but in the archaeological record, they appear more rarely.

It was used to make various tools, from arrowheads and cutting tools to scrapers and drills. Everything a person needed before discovering metal could be made from obsidian. It is often easier than from flint because obsidian is easier to work with and allows for extremely sharp edges.

But beyond practical features, I believe its symbolic value played a role, too. Sailing to an island and bringing back obsidian may have conferred a certain prestige, making it a special resource.

Monoxylon II: Through the Western Mediterranean

Monoxylon II, from 1998, was exceptional in that it took place outside the Aegean Sea, specifically in the Mediterranean, along the coasts of Italy, France, and Spain, all the way to Portugal. Why did you choose that route? Was it also related to obsidian?

 

There were several reasons. We had talked about Lake Bracciano, north of Rome, as the "homeland" of the find our canoes were based on. And if people at that time really were making sea voyages, as our Italian colleagues believe, it was important to test that hypothesis in the context of the western Mediterranean.

So, we chose a coastal route along Western Europe. For some crew members, it may not have been as attractive as island-hopping in the Aegean, but from a scientific standpoint, it was crucial. And this attempt yielded a critical insight.

Unlike in the Aegean, the archaeological finds in the western Mediterranean show a more extended reach for obsidian distribution. In the Aegean, transport distances were around 500 km; in the west, it could have been up to 1000 km. Coastal sailing, which allows stopping and continuing based on weather, makes this more feasible. In contrast, island-to-island travel is harder to plan. I believe the Monoxylon II experiment helped explain that difference.

The expedition ended in Lisbon at the 1998 World Expo. Was that a coincidence or a goal?

 

It was a deliberate goal, and we timed the expedition accordingly. Interestingly, the Czech Republic did not participate in the Expo, stating that we're not a maritime nation. Maybe that made it even more meaningful for us to go.

It was also funny that a bunch of Czechs ended up sailing there. In Lisbon, we docked in a harbor where replicas of historic ships from around the world were anchored, often much younger than our dugout canoe. It was an exceptional meeting with other projects and a vast experience. So, the Expo was the second symbolic goal of the expedition.

Monoxylon I: From Hypothesis to the Sea

Your first Monoxylon expedition in 1995 was based on the hypothesis that dugout canoes may have played a key role in the migration of early agricultural cultures (people, animals, and crops) from the Near East to mainland Greece during the Neolithic period, about 7,000 years BCE. How did that idea come about?

 

This topic remains relevant even after thirty years, and some Neolithic archaeology paradigms have changed since then. We're talking about the so-called Neolithization of Europe, i.e., the transition from hunter-gatherer societies to farming societies. During this period, domesticated animals (sheep, goats, domestic cattle) and cultivated plants (wheat, barley, flax) reached Europe. These didn't originally grow here in domestic forms; their origin lies in the Near East.

And here arises the question: Did this innovation spread through the migration of people, or did local European communities adopt it indirectly on their own? Archaeology still doesn't have a definitive answer. We've reached a point where one part of the scholarly community "believes" in migration, another in adaptation by indigenous populations, and compromise models also exist. However, compromise is not usually the goal of scientific inquiry.

What remains certain is the maritime obstacle, such as between the coasts of Turkey and Greece. That's precisely why we wanted to test whether a dugout canoe could have been the technology that helped overcome that obstacle. The question of transport is crucial, not just for the movement of animals and crops, but for broader social contexts as well.

When you build a canoe replica, you realize that the construction alone requires an organized human group, dozens of people. Even the seafaring crew numbers over twenty individuals, which is a fairly large team even by modern standards. This already shows that sea travel contributed to the formation of communication, logistical, and social structures that shaped society toward more complex forms of cooperation.

Is Monoxylon V in the works?

 

Yes. We still have unanswered questions, and we want to keep addressing them. We've improved our documentation processes and are working on evaluating results between expeditions. Colleagues from Příbor are preparing a sail woven from natural materials, and we want to test additional elements based on the findings from Lake Bracciano. We're discovering that many minor details we previously didn't consider affect the voyage.

And time is ticking. Some expeditions took place twenty years apart. These days, I think we need to speed up a bit. We jokingly tease one excellent colleague and hard worker, who's over sixty, that in another twenty years, he might not be working on the boat every day, maybe just twice a week.

The Neolithic "revolution" took place over millennia. Today, social change happens within weeks. How do you view this pace?

 

That's a great question. The transition to agriculture took thousands of years in the Near East. That's why we no longer use the term "revolution" so much, instead, we speak of gradual transition or evolution. In Europe, the process was faster but still varied by region. In the Mediterranean, changes occurred earlier; in the interior, the process could even slow down or reverse. In sparsely populated areas, new forms of social organization might even have temporarily collapsed.

Today, by contrast, we live in a world of constant pressure for innovation, especially through communication technologies. And that's a fundamental difference. Human nature is used to long evolutionary horizons; adapting to agriculture took millennia. But now, within a single generation, we experience major transformations. Not everyone can handle this pace. Among the younger generation, I see people intentionally withdrawing from what they perceive as a frantic tempo. And rightly so, because we must ask whether such rapid development is actually harmful to human well-being.

Today, one could say, perhaps you'd agree, that the most important tool for modern people is communication, an intangible tool. If we were to focus on tangible tools, which would be the most important for people in the Stone Age? Perhaps one of those you use when building monoxyl canoes?

 

Thank you for a beautifully phrased question. I'm happy to answer it. For me, it's undoubtedly the stone axe. With it, people transformed the world: they built homes, felled trees, made tools, and even dug wells, as we tried ourselves at the Archeopark Všestary when constructing a prehistoric well for a project with the East Bohemian Museum in Pardubice.

Water was key, as were buildings, boats, and smaller tools. And, of course, so was defense. Humans are beautiful but complex beings, and conflict was part of life even then. So, the stone axe served as a creative tool and potentially a weapon. Thanks to tools like this, we could build the Monoxylon boats and the entire Archeopark Všestary, which was largely constructed using replicas of these prehistoric tools.

Many of your publications deal with archaeological experiments involving the production and use of these tools. What are the biggest challenges? Did you experience tool breakage during boat construction?

 

That's an interesting topic. In museums, we mostly see broken or damaged axes, but in our experiments, we discovered that well-made ones don't break so easily.

Of course, they could be damaged if we used lower-quality materials or prototype tools. But if we used tools made from high-quality metabasite from the Jizera Mountains, they held up, even during intensive work like hollowing out an oak log.

Three people would take turns using the axe so it could work continuously. And even then, most of the tools didn't break. That made us ask: why are so many archaeological axes damaged? Maybe we've been looking at those findings the wrong way. It's an open research question. Naturally, different conditions also play a role. A group of researchers who had just gotten up from their computers to start carving a canoe could hardly match the strength of people in the Late Stone Age. 

You mentioned using those original tools even when building the Archeopark in Všestary. What's the purpose of that facility?

 

We started with students from UHK building a Neolithic house about ten kilometers outside Hradec. We tried to reconstruct what life might have looked like in the Late Stone Age, including toolmaking. Later, we moved the activities to Všestary; initially, it was just a humble project in the middle of fields. School groups started visiting.

I think what attracted them was that they could touch and try things themselves, working with natural materials and prehistoric technologies. Archeopark's core idea remains to show the past through personal experience. Since 2013, with support from the region, it's been a permanent facility, and we're currently finishing a new exhibition.

One of our dugout canoes will hang there with sea footage playing behind it. So people can ask themselves: would I rather stay here on solid ground or venture out there? The films help us transport visitors to places they otherwise wouldn't go. It also shows activities that take a lot of time, like tool production. The new exhibit will be about stone axes and sea voyages.

Do you think current film adaptations of historical periods are sufficiently authentic?

 

Better or worse, but generally, not really. Historians tend to agree that film portrayals are always somewhat artistic. I had the chance to be present at a film shoot once, and it was a fascinating insight. I don't blame the filmmakers, they have their reasons, but we shouldn't expect historical accuracy from films.

On the other hand, there are exceptional projects that truly aim to depict our ancestors' lives as accurately as possible. And you're absolutely right to point that out.

One of those exceptional projects might be the films you're personally involved in, a documentary about the Monoxylon expedition, and a historical drama about life in prehistory. Can we say these have a higher degree of authenticity?

 

Definitely. We can depict the past on different levels, some more reliable, others more speculative. For example, we don't even know precisely what buildings looked like in prehistory. That's why we prefer to use the term "construction" instead of "reconstruction", it's our idea, fulfilling the need to connect a concept with a visual representation. It's the same with clothing, for example. We try to recreate these areas using the "living history" approach to portray everyday life as faithfully as possible. Many of these projects are of very high quality. But, hand on heart, we still work with intuition. If something feels archaic to us, we tend to believe it's authentic, and we fall for that impression.

Then there's another level represented by archaeological experiments, which focus on specific topics, especially manufacturing technology and function. For example, how a prehistoric axe was made, how a canoe was built, and how these objects were used. In this, the experiment is very powerful. But we must combine these approaches when we want to complete a picture of the past. That's the greatest challenge, some aspects are more authentic than others, but as scientists, we'll never have full control, though we should aspire to it.

This adventure in archaeological discovery is also symbolically reflected in the journey from Hradec Králové to Všestary, where an archaeological trail and cycle route are located. What can people see on this trail?

 

It's mainly about the landscape in which the Archeopark and Hradec are situated. The trail begins on a hill where the regional authority stands today, but where a hillfort stood in the Late Stone Age. We highlight significant finds in the area.

The information panels might now be a bit outdated, for example, there was research done during the construction of two highways, but the core message remains: beneath our feet, something could still be hidden that we call archaeological cultural heritage.

Are there any significant archaeological sites around Hradec Králové?

 

Definitely. For example, a mammoth was found in Svobodné Dvory before 1900, along with flaked tools. It's unclear whether people hunted it, but they definitely butchered it. That kind of combination of finds is rare, even on a European scale. Then, there were more recent excavations by colleagues from the Faculty of Arts at UHK and other institutions during the construction of the D35 motorway. Some of the finds are still being processed, but it's already clear they'll be exceptional. (In summer 2024, a report was published on what may be the longest prehistoric burial mound in Europe, editor's note.)

Your professional career has been connected to the University of Hradec Králové for over 30 years. What does UHK mean to you as an institution?

 

Although I wasn't born in Hradec, I've lived here practically since I was a baby. It's home to me. So, UHK is my closest university, not just geographically but also in my heart.

And the primary motivation for me has always been the students. That's why I teach. I enjoy it, and I'm not ashamed of it. It's one of my life's purposes.

In 2024, you were awarded the 1st Class Medal of the Hradec Králové Region. What brings you greater fulfillment, this award, landing with Monoxylon on the island of Melos, or a student successfully passing their final exams?

 

You've hit the nail on the head. Definitely the landing and the exams. I'd name those myself.

Of course, I was pleased by the medal, but I see it mainly as recognition for the entire Archeopark team. There are amazing people there doing a lot of work every day, taking care of visitors, excursions, and exhibitions. I merely direct it as the head. So, for me, it's primarily a team award.

Has archaeology changed during the time you've been working in research and teaching? Are today's students different?

 

It's changed a lot. But I still believe archaeology attracts those who have a real connection. When they do, they'll find their way, perhaps through specialization or methodology.

Experimental archaeology started developing in the Czech Republic later, only after the Iron Curtain's fall, although some information trickled in even in the 1960s. As a boy, I was entirely absorbed by it. And even if some people today view it as retro, it still makes a tremendous amount of sense.

We're also experimenting with digital modeling, but we haven't yet reached the point where we can "simulate" the sea or a stone axe. Experimentation is still irreplaceable when done thoroughly and honestly. It's a kind of work that often becomes a way of life. Maybe even in my case, you'd have to judge that.

If you had the chance to travel through space and time and visit any era or archaeological site in its original, glorious state, where would you go?

 

From my perspective, even with all our efforts, we still know very little about archaeology. So being able to travel to the past would be the perfect solution. There are countless topics archaeologists explore. Because I specialize in prehistory, I'd personally like to visit a settlement from the Late Stone Age. There were many of those in our territory. Practically, I could visit any of them, I'd be fascinated to watch how people actually lived and carried out the very activities we now try to study, like stone processing.

That would be genuinely fascinating to me. Of course, Egypt would be amazing, too. But ancient civilizations like Egypt have already been depicted many times through film and other modern technologies, so today, we can vividly imagine what life might have looked like. In contrast, prehistory, especially the Late Stone Age, is still somewhat neglected in this respect. And that's precisely why it draws me in.

Is your work also your hobby? Or do you enjoy other activities outside of archaeology?

 

It's definitely a hobby. Otherwise, it wouldn't work. I mostly try to shift between the various topics within archaeology. Some of them, at certain times, serve as a form of rest. For example, writing isn't easy for me, but the practical part of experimental archaeology is relaxing. Even though it takes a lot of preparation, it's like the cherry on top: you prepare for ages and wait… and then the wind blows from the wrong direction, and it can ruin everything.

The scope of my work is so broad that I don't have much time for other activities. I tell myself I'd like to read something utterly unrelated to archaeology a few times a year. But those moments are rare. So, I try to "travel" within my own work, and some parts of it are truly restful.

Final question, will future archaeologists be excavating plastic tools and wondering what they were for?

 

Perhaps they will. But they'll have it easier because today we have tons of information, especially records. The central turning point in history was when people started writing. From that moment on, we've looked at the past differently.

As a prehistoric archaeologist, I'd give anything for just a few lines from that time. So future colleagues might be luckier. And yes, plastic will undoubtedly remain. Archaeology will also go in that direction because it examines history "from dusk to dawn." Unlike written sources, material culture doesn't lie. And that remains its greatest strength.

Thank you for the interview!

Department of Archaeology, Philosophical Faculty UHK