Kiwi caravan heads for comeback trail

Even in winter, the caravan is a good incentive to pack up and go somewhere new, says Angela Hogan, pictured with cat Angel. Picture / Amos Chapple

They're evocative symbols of the (apparently) endless Kiwi summer: beaches, boats, baches - and caravans.

But unless you've recently spent hours contemplating the squat rear of a frustratingly slow-moving model, you might think caravans have fallen out of fashion as surely as purple shag-pile.

Not so. After some years in the doldrums, local manufacturers can't keep up with demand, says Rob Pooley, publisher of New Zealand Motorhomes, Caravans and Camping.

There are 18,782 licensed caravans in New Zealand, according to the Land Transport Safety Authority. That does not include those rented out in caravan parks or those in backyards that have become sleepouts.

"The thing is, you don't see caravans around," says Mr Pooley. "Motorhomes, which are mostly rented by tourists, are all over the place, but caravans are parked up while people drive around in their cars."

The caravan's boom time was the 1960s and 1970s. It was a period, says University of Auckland social psychologist Niki Harre, when people were not so time-poor. Cheap air fares, weekend shopping, and all-hours jobs were yet to arrive.

Families took their New Zealand-made caravans to motor camps, beaches or friends' farmland, living largely out of doors but in relative comfort.

Although a 20 per cent sales tax imposed in the 1980s dampened the local manufacture of caravans for 20 years, says Mr Pooley, the young parents of the 1960s and 1970s never fell out of love with their rolling holiday homes.

He sees the "pendulum swinging back" as those who spent their childhood holidays in caravans start buying their own. He picks that late parents will be among the new converts: "thirtysomethings with serious money to spend".

Dr Harre "can absolutely see caravans on the rise. Baches are now out of the question for 99.9 per cent of the population unless you inherit one, or are wealthy- and renting baches is also unbelievably expensive".

The trendsetters who ironically adopted retro clothing and their grandparents' bowling clubs could extend their considerable influence to caravans.

So what is the attraction? Caravans are "a contagious disease", says Te Atatu's Maurice Crane, 77, a former traffic officer who has been caravanning since the late 1950s. "Before you know it you've got a caravan and you can't give it up."

These days he has an immaculate 1980 Oxford, with all the mod cons, including a small bathroom containing a toilet and handbasin.

He bought it from a caravan fair 20 years ago for $4995, and reckons buying a new one would now cost about $30,000. 

Another stalwart "van" supporter is Judith Hogan, 56, a fellow North Shore Caravan Club committee member (her husband George, 59, is the president).

The club has about 26 members and does group "rallies" away - once every three weeks in summer, once a month the rest of the year.

The Beach Haven childcare supervisor is also secretary of Caravanning Camping New Zealand, the umbrella body for 34 clubs and about 800 members.

The Hogans have a 1987 Oxford, a 4.5m-long caravan with toilet, shower, and gas-powered cooking and water heating.

Oldest daughter Angela, 34, owns a 1974 Southern Star for which she paid $1500 last year; 26-year-old Theresa has a home-built 1970s Lilliput, apparently an in-demand model, that she bought for $4500; both are being renovated.

"Freedom, companionship, and camping without discomfort," explains Mrs Hogan, whose family has been caravanning for 30 years.

"Everything you need is in a caravan. We've never grown out of it."

For Angela Hogan, a clerical worker, caravanning is "getting out of the city, peace and quiet - no telephone, no one knocking on your door.

"The caravan is cosy, even in winter - it's a good motivation to go [somewhere] rather than staying stagnant in the same place."

Caravan clubbers also get to stay at places closed to the general public, she says, such as private farms or country school grounds.

Some sites have all the necessary facilities, others no power and the bare minimum of accoutrements. Either way, she says, it's a cheap holiday.

But what seems to resonate most with Angela Hogan and her fellow caravanners - even more than spectacular scenery and beachside stops - is the companionship.

She grew up with the North Shore club; she feels she belongs to a special extended family. The older members are "like having another set of grandparents".

And this is not a family much interested in people's Monday-to-Friday status.

"We've had a millionaire," says Mr Crane, "and at the other end a street sweeper, all coming together for a common interest. Everyone's in shorts and a pair of dirty old sandshoes."

The kids are safe and the fun is wholesome, says Mrs Hogan: games, exploring locally, fishing trips, chat, crafts. Mr Crane recalls that for years, children attending rallies would refuse to go to bed until they had piled into his family's caravan for a bedtime story.

He also tells of a family who wanted to join the club, but their little girl didn't want to miss Sunday bible school on rally weekends. So a Sunday school was set up during club rallies, and an attendance stamp given to the girl as proof of her devotion.

"That family," recalls Mr Crane, "was with the club for many, many years."

The adults, he says, do as little or as much as they like while away; Angela Hogan knits and makes bead jewellery.

Mr Crane, a club foundation member, does "a bit of fishing, and I've got a folding bicycle that I take away with me".

As long as the club isn't on school grounds, there is a happy hour, "but we're not boozers".

And just as in families, when disaster strikes, says Mr Crane, club members rally round. When his wife Vera died 22 years ago, "they were extremely supportive - they showed compassion".

But as Angela Hogan fossicks through old photos of caravan holidays, she murmurs that the club's members are becoming increasingly precious to her: "They're not getting any younger."

Caravans have detractors, of course, the most vociferous being motorists who have been stuck behind their swinging rear ends.

They are accused of being ugly relics, downmarket annoyances that slow traffic and make a mockery of getting close to nature.

Mrs Hogan admits she and her husband did succumb to a motorhome - but only for three years.

Angela Hogan simply shrugs as she dismisses the dissers: "Don't knock it until you've tried it."

On the road again

* More than 1565 caravans were registered for the first time last year.

* Only 1113 new motorhomes were registered.