Specs
Sereia, affectionately known as “Rei-Rei,” is a 36’ Mariner Ketch, built in 1979. Typical of yachts of this era, she has a full keel and is build like a brick shit house. The fiberglass in the hull is 1-3/4” thick in places, and she weighs 21,000 lbs, empty.

Her sail inventory includes mizzen, main and jib, plus a huge light-wind jib, a storm staysail and an enormous, brand-new asymmetrical spinnaker. At 1004 square feet, it is larger than most of the apartments we’ve had in New York.

Sereia’s engine is a Perkins 4-108, 45 horsepower.

Layout
Rei-Rei has an unusual interior layout, as she has no v-berth and is open the entire length of the cabin, with the dining area located forward. Midships, the galley is to starboard, with an icebox (we don’t bother with refrigeration), Force-10 stove (two burners and an oven), and double sink. To port, there is a diesel heater, which provides a jaunty little flame and some very toasty heat in cold climates, and the head. The main cabin is located aft, just to port of the companionway. To starboard of the companionway is the nav station and quarterberth, the latter of which is used as an auxiliary storage area and is crammed with crap. The engine is under the companionway.

Colors
As an art school dropout, Antonia had to ask: Why do American and European yachts languish in an attenuated palette of hunter green, white, and navy blue? Portugal, the Caribbean, North Africa— sailors from more exotic ports paint their vessels all manner of wild hues, and why not us? It’s as though we’re stuck in some coffee table book about turn-of-the-century, East Coast “yachting.”

So we went Moroccan, baby! For the full story of Rei-Rei’s transformation from drab to FAB, you can view the Flash video, Pimp My Ride. (11 MB download, requires a high-speed connection, Flash 8 Player, and a sound card... turn up the volume!)

Here are some pictures of Sereia’s new look:

Note the first installment in our Moroccan palette was the bright ORANGE bimini frame (courtesy of Sullivan and Brampton, San Leandro, CA). We were a little scared at first, but now with the new colors, we think it looks very sexy.




Design and Improvements
Supposedly, Sereia was designed by Bill Garden, but she was built in Taiwan, and it is pretty clear that Mr. Garden wasn’t there to supervise. Make no mistake, in 20 knots of wind, Sereia sails like freight train. But before we did any cruising, Peter and I spent a month in Moss Landing, refitting the boat for ocean voyaging.

1. Buried Chainplates
Sereia’s chainplates were fiberglassed right into her hull, which is fine until one of them starts to rust. And of course, there’s no way of telling if they are rusting, because you can’t see them. For those of you who don’t sail, this is sort of like enclosing your car’s brake pads in a steel vault. It would be nice to inspect them once in a while.

Peter had new steel chainplates made, which he bolted right through the existing ones. For the full story of the chainplate odyssey, click here.

Peter in his special "drill sling,"
busting ass.
One of the new chainplates, bolted into place. Note the old chainplate in place just inboard of the new one.


2. Compression Post
Sereia’s mast is deck-stepped, which is OK, except it would have been better if the boat’s builders had stepped the mast over the supporting beam where it belonged. Inexplicably, they stepped the mast some six inches forward of the supporting beam, which means that all the massive downward force of the mast and its rigging was pressing down into the cabin top, consisting essentially of two sheets of fiberglass and some marine plywood. Not wishing to have the mast come crashing through the roof and into our soup (and incidentally losing our rig in the process), Peter and Doug Tiffany designed a compression post that would take the force of the mast right down to our giant lead keel.

 

An added benefit of this compression post, of course, is that we now have a stripper pole in our salon. For the full story of the compression post-stripper pole, click here.