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I’ve seen seals do some impressive things with balls, dolphins scoot backwards on their tails while laughing, and even a human juggle chainsaws while playing the kazoo, but none of these feats can hold a candle to watching someone silkily and effortlessly reverse a caravan.
The more times I witnessed this almost superhuman feat, the more certain I became that it was entirely beyond me and, like juggling chainsaws, something I probably should avoid.
And yet here I am, on my second go at reversing a caravan that’s longer than a blue whale and almost as heavy, as two quietly chortling men yell conflicting and counter-intuitive advice.
While it’s definitely a good idea for beginners to ask for help, I’d felt surprisingly proud about my first ‘unsupervised’ attempt and found it a thousand times easier than I had feared. I used the mirrors, I watched the van’s initially violent veering and began to feel which way I needed to turn the wheel (essentially, whatever feels like the wrong way to your brain).
But then the two blokes decided to step in and advise me that I should definitely do it again. The smell of a ‘stitch up’ was as thick in the air as the sea spray coming from stunning Umina Beach, on which the NRMA Ocean Beach Holiday Resort perches. It’s the temporary home for our 22-foot-long, three-tonne caravan on loan from the lovely people at Snowy River Caravans.
My new friends spend time guiding me back and forth in an experience that feels like trying to translate two languages at once. Not only do they sometimes disagree with each other, they disagree with themselves, repeatedly shouting “left-hand down a bit; no the other left”.
Eventually, we get there and I’m able to put to good use the many detailed instructions I’ve been given about chocking wheels, plugging in sullage hoses, and lowering stabilisers (caravans, especially large ones like our five-berth Snowy River SRT-22F, have one at each corner, to stop them tipping).
I’d spent the previous week talking to people who own and love caravans and been given countless hours of towing advice, everything from the unhelpful (“If the caravan overtakes you, at any point, that’s bad”) to the more technical (“When you take a bend, you must use a wide approach to give the van room, then take a late apex”). On the topic of reversing, however, all I heard was a lot of sharp breath intaking and “Oooh, that’s going to be tough” or “How big did you say this van is?”
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so cynical, because it turns out that caravanning people are just nicer than those found in city circles. There’s a friendliness and a willingness to share travel experiences and invaluable advice that comes as a pleasant shock.
Obviously, with my fear of parking caravans, my initial instinct when I was asked to write this story was to decline. But my 14-year-old daughter, for whom I would walk on hot coals, had recently told me how much she loves caravans, and would like to live in one. So, almost entirely because I thought taking her with me on the adventure would make her happy – and only slightly to dissuade her from living in a van – here we are, about to spend her first night sleeping in one.
It’s something I had done quite a bit when I was her age. Back then, people would tow their vans with ordinary cars, rather than requiring big utes (I borrowed a mean-looking Mazda BT-50 for the task), mainly because vans used to be tiny.
Today, all the vans in the NRMA Ocean Beach Holiday Resort loom large, which brings me to some key advice about your tow vehicle. With a Taj Mahal-sized caravan like ours, extra-wide towing mirrors are a must, as is ensuring your vehicle is fitted with trailer brakes. It’s vital you familiarise yourself with your vehicle’s guidelines for towing capacity and tongue weight, too. Crucially, when loading up your van with gear, be mindful of where you put all that weight – for example, too much at the back of the van will cause an unsettling lack of balance for the hitch and your vehicle.
Happily, it’s clear my daughter loves our van with its bunk beds, vital charging points (“It feels just like a Japanese capsule hotel,” she trills), television and air conditioning. My wife and I are more thrilled to find not a double but a queen-sized, pillow-topped mattress. It’s bloody luxury, as the younger van-visiting version of me would have said.
What hasn’t changed is the familiar sense of fun you find in holiday parks like this, an uplifting vibe engendered by seeing so many young children, smiling widely while playing, running, cycling, fishing, feeding birds and only occasionally fighting with sticks.
Screens, at least briefly, are sidelined by screams of delight, and it really could be the Australia of my youth, aside from all the helmets. I must also admit we didn’t have water parks like the one at Ocean Beach back then, nor the modern joy of bouncing pillows, a far superior invention to the trampoline and still enormous fun when you’re old.
The many distractions are welcome after what had been a long day of driving quite slowly from the Snowy River Caravans dealership outside Newcastle. One thing I learned early on was that driving smoothly is crucial when towing. Sudden acceleration, hard braking and sharp turns are all to be avoided as they can cause caravan swaying or even jack-knifing. And believe me, even the slightest sensation of swaying is unnerving. Downhill runs were also slightly alarming, and I had to remind myself to increase my distance from the vehicle in front because it takes a lot longer to come to a stop.
Making it to the entertaining enclave at Umina Beach came with a sense of relief, as if I’d been standing under a shower of nervous sweat. Though it felt more like I’d achieved something and even conquered my fears.
The next morning, we need to move the caravan into an even trickier spot, and I’m keen to have another go at reversing, rather than keening in terror. And this time I really feel like I’m getting the hang of it.
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The best parts of the weekend are, of course, when I don’t have to set the caravan up or tow it anywhere. They are wonderful, relaxing and nature-filled – much like camping but with space and luxury. And a heater. We even manage to hide the caravan’s television away, telling our daughter it doesn’t work, and spend an old-school evening rediscovering the joys of playing Uno with a kid who always beats you.
On the third and last day, I have to deal with the obligatory job of taking the cassette (the catch-all-container for your on-board toilet) to the dump point, which sounds like you’re throwing away dead music technology, but is actually a grisly task I’ve been dreading. Mercifully, it’s far less horrific than what I’d imagined, perhaps because it’s not mid-summer.
Overall, it turns out that towing and holidaying in a caravan isn’t something only proper grown-ups, or properly grey ones, can do. Even newbies like me can give it a crack and have a ball. Now that I’ve conquered my fears, and returned the caravan in one piece, I have to say I’d be up for trying it again – just in a slightly smaller van.
Before you head out on the open road, it’s wise to practice towing in a large open space to develop an understanding of how your vehicle and van respond to different steering inputs. Those still not entirely confident can call their chosen holiday park ahead of time and mention their relative lack of experience. At the very least, the park can find someone from the front office to come and guide you into your reserved spot. Alternatively, ask for a ‘drive through’, which just might be the two most beautiful words in caravanning. This is a van space that can be approached from behind, allowing you to drive forward and through it, with no tricky reversing required.
