Dragonfly 36 - Thrilling Dance with a Danish Sailing Legend
Stepping onto the Dragonfly 36 in May 2025, I feel like I’ve slipped into the cockpit of a fighter jet built for the seas—a trimaran so electrifying it sets my heart ablaze. Fresh from Denmark’s Quorning Boats yard, this 36-footer isn’t just a yacht; it’s a pulse-pounding love affair with the wind, crafted to make every sailor’s soul sing. As I grip the helm, slicing through Danish waters at 15 knots with a grin plastered across my face, I’m swept away by a boat that’s as nimble as a dancer and as fierce as a Viking longship. From its ingenious SwingWing system to a cockpit that’s my command center, the Dragonfly 36 is a masterpiece of Scandinavian wizardry—a coastal cruiser that dares me to chase horizons and never look back.
Hooked on a Danish Dream
The moment I board the Dragonfly 36, I’m smitten. Quorning Boats, crafting multihulls since the 1960s, has poured decades of passion into this vessel, and it shows. Born in their Danish yard, where craftsmanship smells like fresh-cut elm and innovation hums in the air, the 36 is a testament to their obsession with perfection. At 10.68 meters long with a beam that stretches from 3.7 meters folded to 8.1 meters unfurled, it’s a shapeshifter—slipping into monohull berths or spreading its wings for ocean-conquering stability. Weighing just 4.5 tonnes lightship and 5.2 tonnes loaded, it’s a featherweight powerhouse, built with vinylester hulls and composite wizardry that feels both bulletproof and ballet-light.
The SwingWing system—those foldable outriggers—is pure genius. I watch, mesmerized, as the floats glide inward in 40 seconds, shrinking the beam to marina-friendly proportions, or lock outward to form a rock-solid platform that laughs at rough seas. No backstay, no conventional shrouds—just a deck-stepped 18.5-meter carbon mast, braced by float-mounted stays, turning 15-ton compression loads into effortless speed. It’s not just engineering; it’s alchemy, transforming a coastal cruiser into a performance beast that holds its value like a rare gem. Starting at €535,000 for the Performance version, it’s a premium ticket, but every hand-laminated detail screams worth it.
Sailing Nirvana: A Ride That Steals My Breath
At the helm, I’m lost in ecstasy. The Dragonfly 36 doesn’t sail—it soars. With 18 knots of true wind at 60 degrees apparent, I’m rocketing along at 14-15 knots, the single rudder beneath me channeling every gust into pure, unfiltered joy. Upwind, at 25 degrees apparent, I’m still hitting 8.5-9 knots, leaving monohulls in my wake like they’re standing still. The power-to-weight ratio is intoxicating—80 square meters of Elvstrøm sails on a 4.5-tonne frame, slicing through waves with the precision of a scalpel. It’s the most rewarding sail I’ve ever had on a cruising yacht, so effortless I could steer with a coffee in hand.
Jibing is a breeze, thanks to a powered furler and Code Zero sail that dances through maneuvers like a partner in perfect sync. The centerboard and rudder, spring-loaded with cam-cleat safety fuses, kick up if I graze a rock, saving my adventure from disaster. I’m grinning like a kid as I weave through Danish waters, the boat’s balance so perfect it feels like an extension of my will. Even when the wind drops, the 36 glides gently, letting me savor the thrill without missing a beat. A 30-hp Yanmar saildrive (optional 40-hp for extra torque) hums aft, tucked away to keep noise and heat from my sanctuary, ready to push me at 8 knots when sails aren’t enough. This isn’t sailing—it’s falling in love with the sea all over again.
Cockpit Command: My Throne of Adventure
The cockpit is my kingdom, a deep, sheltered haven where I rule the waves. Long benches beg for lounging, protected by a sprayhood that stretches to the winches or an optional bimini for sun-soaked days. Every line—mainsail, headsail, barber hauler—converges aft, letting me sail solo without breaking a sweat. Clever bins swallow rope tails, banishing the snake pit of lines that could tangle my feet. The transom, open for thrill-seekers, can be netted with trampoline mesh to cradle kids, coolers, or my inflatable dinghy, strapped securely to the foredeck’s trampolines.
Storage is my superpower here—1.5 tonnes of payload capacity, with vast lockers in the floats for gear, fenders, or toys. The composite SwingWing arms, a lighter evolution of Quorning’s 1980s design, lock with a satisfying thud, supporting a 500-kilo-rated trampoline that’s my front-row seat to the horizon. I’m safe, surrounded by high handrails and foam decking that’s cool underfoot and grippy in a squall. As I steer, a rival Dragonfly 40—carbon-clad and solo-sailed—darts nearby, but my 36 keeps pace, proving its mettle. This cockpit isn’t just functional; it’s my stage for seafaring glory.
Below Deck: My Cozy Nordic Nest
Slipping below, I’m wrapped in a warm hug of elm veneer and craftsmanship that smells like a carpenter’s workshop. The central hull, narrow by monohull standards, is a masterclass in space efficiency—every inch feels purposeful, like a tailored suit. At 1.95 meters, headroom lets me stand tall, while coachroof windows and flush hatches flood the saloon with light, making it feel like a seaside loft. The galley, a first for Dragonfly with its full-sized oven, boasts deep drawers, twin sinks, and an aft-facing fridge that’s a breeze to raid from the cockpit. Sliding lockers and louvered lighting add a modern zing to the traditional vibe, keeping it fresh yet timeless.
The saloon table seats six comfortably—eight if we squeeze—its leaves folding to form a “kindergarten” berth for kids, complete with fill-in boards and cushioned backrests. It’s a cozy cocoon, perfect for stormy nights or playful afternoons. Forward, a V-berth offers privacy behind a curtain, with hull portlights and a hatch for ventilation, plus storage for my gear. The aft owner’s cabin, carved beneath the cockpit, surprises me with its spacious double berth, a thwartship nook for reading, and raised lockers—though a squeaky floorboard begs for a fix. The head, a compact wet room, is tight but functional, with a roving shower and deep sink for quick cleanups. Tanks and batteries tuck neatly under berths, leaving the floats free for extra stowage. It’s not a sprawling penthouse, but for a week of coastal cruising, it’s my perfect Nordic hideaway.
Engine Bay: My Trusty Steed
Lifting the aft hatch, I peer into an engine bay that’s a sailor’s dream—tidy, accessible, and built for the long haul. The 30-hp Yanmar saildrive (upgradable to 40-hp) sits protected, far from the interior to keep noise and fumes at bay. Its aft placement shields it when I beach the tri, a quirky perk of multihull life. The Jefa cable steering, linked to a Marstrom carbon rudder blade, feels like an extension of my hands—direct, responsive, and alive. I can inspect the quadrant and shaft with ease, and additional machinery access ensures quick fixes on the go. It’s a compact fortress, keeping my adventures smooth and uninterrupted.
My Verdict: A Boat That Owns My Heart
As I steer the Dragonfly 36 back to the marina, my heart sinks—I don’t want this ride to end. This yacht is magic, pure and simple. Its SwingWing system, featherlight composites, and 75 handcrafted molds make it a marvel of engineering, but it’s the sailing that steals my soul. Blasting upwind at 9 knots or jibing with a Code Zero in hand, I’ve never felt so alive on a cruising boat. The cockpit is my command post, the interior my cozy retreat, and every detail—from foam decking to hidden line bins—screams Danish devotion.
Sure, the head and forward berth might feel snug for some, and that squeaky floorboard nags at my perfectionist side. But these are whispers against a symphony of brilliance. At €535,000 for the Performance model, it’s a premium ride, but it’s worth every cent for the thrill it delivers. As I dock, watching the yard’s silhouette fade, I’m already plotting my next sail. The Dragonfly 36 isn’t just a yacht—it’s my ticket to a life of wind-whipped, heart-pounding freedom, and I’m utterly, hopelessly in love.