All of you love cars and driving. So I won’t be alone in my choice of
holidays – over the years, I have almost always driven. I’ve hired a camper van
and driven around Tasmania; I’ve driven a hybrid Prius across half of Australia
(from Brisbane to Adelaide and back); I’ve even driven an Alfa convertible from
Adelaide to Uluru (Ayers Rock) and return. Some of these trips were written
about in AutoSpeed, but to a greater or lesser degree, all were holidays.
But there’s one problem with car-based holidays: where do you sleep? There’s
plenty of choices: motel it each night, take along camping gear and stay in
caravan parks, or sleep in overnight cabins or on-site vans - again to be found
in caravan parks. Or, drag along something behind the car – something like a
camper trailer.
My partner Georgina and I have long looked at camper trailers (we’ve always
dismissed fixed-roof caravans and pop-tops as being too large and unwieldy) but
despite inspecting plenty at camping shows, each has always seemed rather like
an expensive tent on the back of a trailer. And, by expensive, I mean $7,000 –
$12,000! (All dollars in this story are Australian.) When even the best tent
will set you back only around $1,000, that’s a helluva lot for adding wheels...
But the nagging interest has remained: many camper trailers have an in-built
kitchen with sink, gas stove and pumped water. They’d all be convenient. And
with a low towing profile and (in caravan terms) a ridiculously low mass like
500kg, it wouldn’t be much of a drag (ho ho) to tow one.
But all that remained theoretical until we saw a camping trailer at a show...
one that was available for hire. Built by Bayside Camper Trailers of Redland
Bay, Queensland (all camper trailers of this sort are made by little companies... often
backyarders), it had a main tent that folded out into a 5 x 3 metre space, and
with the annex zipped on, a total area more like 5 x 5 metres. The tailgate of
the trailer swivelled out to form a meals preparation area, and a gas stove,
water tank, 12V battery and accessories like a fluoro light were all provided.
The bed (perched on top of the trailer body) was queen size, the walls heavy
duty canvas, there were plenty of unzippable ‘windows’ – and the killer was the
daily rental. Just $40...
My ’99 Lexus LS400 would be the tow car – and that created another set of
questions. Despite its 210kW 4-litre V8, the Lexus achieves excellent fuel
consumption – as low as 8 litres/100 km on a freeway cruise and easily 10
litres/100km in normal flat road use. But what would the fuel consumption be
like with a camping trailer behind it? Despite its relatively low profile, the
Bayside camper is much higher than the trailing edge of the Lexus bootlid, so
aerodynamically it would create substantial drag. And despite weighing only
about half a tonne, that’s still 30 per cent extra mass to haul up hills...
Still, we’d never know if we didn’t try it.
On the Road
The first step was to pick up the camper and take it the 100-odd kilometres
home for loading. The surprise was how well it towed. Boasting nothing more than
primitive leaf springs (like nearly all trailers, no dampers are used in the
suspension), I’d expected it to hop and bounce like an empty 6x4 trailer, but it
towed with stability and poise. On the freeway home I could also get a feel for
the fuel consumption – the trip computer display showed an average of 12
litres/100km, or about 33 per cent worse than the car alone would have achieved
in similar conditions. Still, when I’d thought the consumption might rise into
the Sixteens, Twelves were fine.
Ah, the lulling into complacency of
the enthusiastic... Who has been adding up the costs so far? The camper is costing
40 bucks a night, and the fuel consumption is one-third poorer than normal. If
we travel 400 kilometres a day and premium fuel costs an average of $1.15 a
litre, each day is costing about $14 more in fuel. So far then, the camper is
costing us $54 a night. And that’s without paying for a site at a camping
ground...
The other surprise was the space available for luggage. The canvas top of the
camper lifts on gas struts revealing plenty of room inside for plastic crates of
food and cooking gear, bedding, soft bags containing clothes, two fold-up
chairs, nappies (oh yes, did I mention 9 month old Alexander?), a pram, a
playpen and a portacot. Including making use of the boot of the car, there was
more space than I have ever had available when going on a trip. In fact, I
couldn’t quite believe it – and with careful packing, probably a third more
stuff again could have been taken. Normally, the issue is deciding what must be
left behind...
By the time we’d picked up the camper, packed it and headed back to the M1
freeway on the Gold Coast, it was late afternoon. We were travelling south into
northern New South Wales, and how far south we got before setting-up camp was
fluid. But as the early winter dusk flooded darkness across the cane fields, our
travel plans for the day became increasingly conservative. So at Hastings Point,
only 50 kilometres south of the Gold Coast, we stopped for the night to set up
camp.
And what a bloody pain in the butt it was.
The first drama was reversing the camper onto the caravan park site – the
trailer needed to be centred on a concrete pad, one that couldn’t be seen in the
darkness. I’m normally okay at backing trailers but when you can’t even see
where the trailer is supposed to be positioned (and can’t see the person waving
directions) it becomes a bit hard. Add to that the fact that the bulky canvas
top of the camper completely obscures vision through the central mirror, and
it’s not exactly what you feel like doing after a long day: precision driving in
reverse. But with a bit of manhandling of the camper into position (hmm, 500kg
is a lot to push around by hand), the trailer was finally in the right spot.
Now to erect it.
We struggled with canvas covers, we struggled with torches, we hammered
stakes into the ground and undid butterfly nuts to allow poles to extend. We
tried to connect the power cord (despite being 6 metres, it wasn’t long enough);
unloaded the trailer (memo to self: next time, unload it before erecting the tent on top);
decided not to bother with the annex; and carried bedding and chairs and a
portacot and soft bags and God knows what else from the trailer to the tent. And
in a few moments, completely filled the floor space.
About an hour later, when we could sit in the chairs perched amongst the
clutter watching baby Alexander bellow in rage at being cooped up in a portacot,
we sipped wine from plastic glasses and considered what a wonderful holiday we
were having.
But what made my wine taste corked was
the cost of the campsite. Only powered sites were available, and this one had
cost $36. Together with the camper trailer rental and increased fuel costs, at
this rate each night was going to cost $90. Hell, out here a motel room is
typically less than that – and there’s no reversing, no setting-up, and even a
dog-box motel room has probably twice the floor area. Not to mention, being
draught-proof, having a heater and decent lighting...
It Gets Better
With Alexander not interested in sleep, that evening we went for a walk. We
had plenty to talk about: clearly, setting-up the camper trailer each night
wasn’t worth the effort. So, better to stop at the next location for two nights
– hopefully that would make it worthwhile to erect the whole box and dice. Since
we had to get as far as Moonbi in New South Wales – where I was to pick up a car
I had lent a friend – spending two nights at one place would require
travelling further each day, but that was no problem. Whatever the cost
downsides, the camper towed perfectly.
The next night we parked the trailer at Emerald Beach, just north of Coffs
Harbour. This time there was no concrete pad, instead an open area of grass. The
cost was also much lower: $26 a night, again for a powered site. With the camper
fully set up, steak sizzling on the gas frypan and feet stretched out in the
annexe, things looked better. Alexander had space to have his cage (ie play pen)
erected, and although it was cold, when equipped with beanie and multiple layers
of clothing, I could start reading the crate of books I’d brought along. Some
ducks wandered in from the nearby river, and at dawn the next day three
wallabies could be seen hopping around the park.
That morning we headed into Coffs Harbour, trailer left behind and car
feeling light and nimble. A browse around a Sunday morning market, a walk out
along a breakwater to a nearby island, watching a pair of whales cavorting out
to sea. That afternoon, doing the gawking tourist thing at the Big Banana – and
even if the tour guide who took us around the banana plantation had the
communication skills of an antelope, well, the frozen chocolate banana was
good. Then back to the set-up
camper, our little oasis of personalised comfort in the tranquil and quiet
surroundings of the near-empty caravan park. This was delightful.
But at 5 am the next day we were packing things up. Together with a quick
shower and getting dressed, it took a solid 90 minutes before the camper was
hitched-up and we were ready to go. Exiting a hotel room takes about 15
minutes...
We needed to head inland and randomly picked the road that connects Uranga to
Armidale. This proved to be an inspired guess: along the way are the Ebor Falls, and the World Heritage
rainforest through which the road passes is breathtaking in its beauty. The
climb was at times quite steep – short-term fuel consumption rose into the
Fifteens – but unlike the more southerly Port Macquarie–Bendemeer route, the
tight twisty bits don’t go for ever.
That night we reached Moonbi – just south of Tamworth – and John and Robyn
offered accommodation in the house: no need to set up the camper. The relief
that we felt at this news told us more about the camper than any rational
analysis... Following that night there was just one more on the way home – at the
drought-stricken Glen Innes, where a powered site cost just $20...
Just under 1500 kilometres and five nights later, we were back where we’d
started.
Thoughts...
I doubt we’ll ever hire another camper trailer. The design of the camper
itself was excellent – apart from needling more interior pockets sewn into the
canvas, I can’t think of too many deficiencies. And as I said, we’ve looked at
lots of campers and in terms of window and floor space, this was a good ‘un. But
unless you’re going to a location – particularly a remote one – and expect to
stay there for a week or two, the time and effort needed to set up the camper
simply makes it all a pain.
And the costs? Well, the first night was the most expensive, but even with
the subsequent lower site rates, it’s never like you’re saving a lot of bucks
over staying in cheapish motels.
And for us, there’s another dimension. Leave out all the camping gear and
expect to do some clothes washing en route, and we could have fitted into my
modified turbo hybrid Toyota Prius. I don’t yet have long distance touring fuel
consumption figures for that car but I’d expect it to be in the low Fives.
Assuming 400 kilometres a day, that makes a daily fuel saving of something like
$32 over the Lexus/camper combination. Add that saving to the campervan hire of
$40 and a typical site cost of $25, and there’s the cost of a motel room. So,
take the Prius and stay in a motel every night without it costing a cent more!
(And if you don’t like the Prius example, a diesel Peugeot wouldn’t be far
behind.)
So as I say, no more camper trailers for us, I think...
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