I spent twenty five years enjoying South Florida as a scuba diver and fisherman. That scuba diver part kinda dictated how my boats would be powered. It wasn't until I built our retirement home on a small lake (okay, my wife, June calls it a pond) in Concord, North Carolina that I began to consider looking for a sailboat.
That sounds dumb, I know, but scuba diving aside, sailing a small sailboat in the Ft. Lauderdale area isn't too appealing. There are no bays, no protected water suitable for sailing, just the occasional inlet to the ocean that can be a challenge to navigate in small under-powered boats. Trailering a sailboat to Miami or the Keys just didn't appeal to me. Besides, I'm only allowed to have one boat at a time and there's that diving thing to consider. Small sailboats and diving are mutually exclusive.
Then I stumbled on an ad for an 1967 O'Day Mariner in Greensboro for only $800 with a trailer. I researched Mariners online and discovered a real cult following for the boat, particularly on the upper East Coast where they still have regattas for Mariner owners.
The Mariner has a 7' long cockpit with a small cuddy cabin. It only draws 10" of water with centerboard up and 4' with it down. Sounded like a good compromise and a great price.
The young woman who owned that boat said that it was given to her by her uncle and that she didn't have the time or money to fix it up.
The hull was it good shape. The main sail and jib were stored in sail bags and were original but in excellent shape. The mast and the rigging looked good.
The trailer needed lights and a couple of tires but the cuddy cabin was a nightmare.
I had been a boat owner for 25 years. Even if I didn't know anything about sailboats, I was handy and I figured what the hell, let's give it a shot. We settled on $700 and I had my first sailboat.
My wife was less than impressed when I arrived home with my new find. On reflection, I figured she might be right. There was a lot of work to be done to make her respectable. It would have to start with stripping the cuddy cabin down to the hull, removing the through the hull fittings for what had obviously been a head that would only serve a contortionist. I was going to have to learn how to repair fiberglass!
Here's a link to an album showing the progress of the job of restoring the Mariner. It was a labor of love that took the better part of a year. My neighbors thought I had gone a around the bend, particularly when I tried to sail my 19' sailboat on the 18 acre lake surrounded by heavily wooded hills. I should have named her Tack because that's all I did on that pond. But, in deference to my neighbors' view of my mental state, I named her Seanility.
If you're wondering about her color scheme. Blame my wife. I wanted to paint her hull yellow but my wife insisted on red bottom paint so we would be found more easily if I turtled the boat. I took so much grief from friends about the McDonald's color scheme that I made this photo just for them, using PhotoShop.
I took Seanility to Lake Norman a few times, finally deciding to rent a slip for a couple months. Stepping the mast by myself was a chore and being inexperienced made sailing her single-handed a challenge. My wife and I trailered her to the Outer Banks for a week, sailing out of Manteo.
Seanility gave me the sailing bug but she also made me want an enclosed cabin and more comfortable accommodations. That option presented itself a couple months later.
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