Motorhome and caravan industry fears sharp downturn in demand
By William Hall, Northern Correspondent
Published: January 14 2005 02:00 | Last updated: January 14 2005 02:00
The caravan and motorhome industry, which has increased production by more than 50 per cent over the past three years, is expecting a sharp slowdown in 2005 as a result of a weakening in consumer confidence and growing competition from imports.
Over the past three years the manufacture of touring caravans and motorhomes, much of which is based in the Hull area, has emerged as one of Britain's more unlikely manufacturing success stories.
A combination of a renewed enthusiasm for domestic breaks and increasing amounts of equity released from rising house prices has led to a surge in demand for domestically produced caravans, which can cost between £10,000 and £20,000, and motorhomes, which can cost up to £50,000.
In 2003, the UK produced 28,350 touring caravans and 7,468 motorhomes. In the first 11 months of 2004, the production of touring caravans was up 17 per cent and motorhomes output was up 16 per cent, according to the National Caravan Council, an industry trade body.
Britain is the largest market in Europe for touring caravans. Last year was the third year in a row when the percentage of caravan output grew in the high teens while growth of the more expensive motorhomes was even more rapid.
However, industry officials will be monitoring closely next week's Caravan and Motorhome show in Manchester for the first signs of any slowdown.
Over the past three years attendance has risen by more than a third and Simon Coe, the show's director, says that the north-west of England is the UK's caravanning heartland.
"January is the peak time for caravan dealers," says Mr Coe. Since many caravans are built to specification, orders need to be lodged in January if buyers want their new vehicle in time for Easter when the caravanning season starts.
Graham Beacom, the NCC's new director-general, says that the industry is expecting a very modest increase in output in 2005 and most will be "happy if they produce last year's numbers".
"We are not going to see the same level of growth in 2005 that we have seen for the last few years. But we are not going to see a decline," says Richard White, marketing director of Swift, the industry leader. Swift, which has increased output from under 1,000 to more than 15,000 vehicles over the past 12 years, also sells its production under the Abbey, Ace, Bessacar, Sprite and Sterling brands. It employs over 1,000 staff and last year it increased its pre-tax profits more than threefold, to £10.5m, on a 25 per cent rise in sales, to £126.7m.
UK caravan manufacturers remain confident that the weakness of the housing market will not trigger a sudden collapse in demand for their products because most caravan buyers tend to be older and less highly geared than younger purchasers of big ticket items.
However, some observers believe that the challenges facing the caravan industry go far beyond a temporary slowdown in consumer demand. While the vast majority of the UK's traditional car and motor cycle manufacturers have either disappeared or been swallowed by foreign rivals, close to 90 per cent of the caravans and motorhomes sold in the UK are still made by domestic manufacturers.
Nevertheless, UK manufacturers remain smaller than continental rivals such as Germany's Hymer and France's Tregano. Both companies, faced with stagnant home markets, are making increasing efforts to break the tight hold of the UK caravan dealers.
Steve Sharpe of Lowdham Leisure World, a fast-growing Nottingham dealer, which handles UK and imported caravans, says that imports now account for 60 per cent of his company's motorhome sales and 30 per cent of caravan sales
Source FT.com Before Christmas I had a chat with a company that supply generators and He mentioned this new product. Got the details through today as they are now being imported to the UK for the caravanning/motorhome market.
I have asked him for some info but at least we have the basics. I can see them being taken up more by motorhomers than caravanners what do you think?
QUOTE
New RV waste outlet pump from FLOJET & Sigma Supplies.
Of interest to all RV/Motorhome owners and Caravanners is the new portable FLOJET RV waste pump which is now available in the UK from FLOJET RV Pump & Equipment distributors Sigma Supplies Ltd.
Draining your waste tanks just got easier
This new to the UK pump has been exhaustively tested in the US, and has already gained a high level of popularity and been well proven by US RV owners.
Enabling waste to be pumped out via a standard garden hose over distances of up to 50 ft means greater flexibility for outlet discharge, and eliminates the need for 3” Sewerage hose.
Main Features
*Connects directly to the Motorhome/Caravan waste outlet
*Eliminates 3” (75mm) sewer hose
*Garden hose discharge port 5/8” min
*Freshwater rinse out capability
*Remote hand held on/off switch
*Ability to pump out over longer distances
*Ability to drain holding tanks when back at home
*Easy to clean up and store
*Rugged storage case
*Run dry protection
*Models available in 12 or 24 V specifications
*USCG and CSA listed
*Macerator reduces particle size down to 3mm max
Empties a typical 30 US gallon holding tank in less than 3 minutes
Also available from Sigma is the full range of Flojet RV and Marine domestic freshwater pumps.
You can win tickets to the Caravan and motorhome shows at GMEX and the SECC but be quick as the closing dates for the comps are fast approaching
To enter the GMEX Competition Click here
To Enter the SECC Competition Click here
We also have tickets for the NEC Show and closing at the end of the month is our competition to win a weeks camping in Italy including Euro tunnel crossing
Cromer, N ew year rally 2004/2005 – the novice viewpoint.
Article by Jim (olderbutnotwiser).
It was just a casual internet search really. Sat in front of the computer, no plans for New Years Eve and a new (well new to us) caravan that we were just itching to use. So, “enter New Year and Caravan as the search criteria and see what comes up,” I thought.
There were a fair few hits, needless to say. I had a look through and one that caught my eye was something to do with Cromer. Now, living in Colchester, I thought “This seems close enough, let’s have a closer look.”
Well, to cut a long story short, the search had turned up the Touring and Tenting thread for the New Year rally at Cromer.
For a day or two we went through the T & T site, trying to find out what was what and who was who. We eventually decided I should sign up, sadly saddling myself with a ridiculously long user name, but hey, I’m stuck with it now!
After a few postings, a friendly welcome and a few laughs, we decided to take the plunge and sign up for Cromer. Our first ever caravan rally, only our third ever trip in the caravan and our first winter one. Most of our friends thought we were either mad, stupid or both, but what’s life without a few risks?
Onwards about 3 weeks, Christmas done and dusted and the day (Thursday December 30th) dawned for us to travel to the north of Norfolk. Actually, the story sort of starts the evening before, when the screen washer on our 9 month old car decided to stop working. A little problem in the summer, a great big horrible one on dirty wet Norfolk roads in the winter! 8:30am saw us at the car dealers. A faulty pump was causing the problem and they didn’t have a new one in stock, but they did carry out a temporary repair to last us a few days, and all within an hour, so we were quite pleased with the service, if not with the initial failure.
No problems with collecting the caravan, driving to the campsite, or even finding it and we arrived early afternoon. We were still a little apprehensive about what to expect as we stopped outside the reception at Forest Park. I went in to find out what was what, while Gail and the children went into the shop to buy….. ketchup!! Don’t ask me why they suddenly decided we needed ketchup, I have no idea!
Directions were given and we all piled back into the car to drive around to the rally area. On turning into the road we saw a gaggle of people and immediately someone came over to speak to us. That someone turned out to be Sonja, with a huge warm smile on her face she made us feel so welcome in just a couple of minutes that we suddenly didn’t feel apprehensive at all. What a lovely lady!
Next came the task of selecting a pitch. As we were one of the last to arrive, there were no nice easy pitches close to the road to be had…all gone days before no doubt! Being a novice at this towing lark I really didn’t want to be reversing in front of a crowd of people I (rightly or wrongly) assumed to be experts, so I decided to swing right round in the field and drive onto a pitch forwards. A nice big circle saw us into a nice slot, unfortunately it wasn’t a pitch! Never mind, go round again and go into a pitch next time. This was when the problems really started. The ground was wetter and softer than I thought. The caravan had more effect across soft ground than I thought, and, not to put to fine a point on it, I was suddenly stuck! Oh dear…
Soon people were at hand with advice and offers of help…Mark was first, then Doc, Tony from Suffolk offered to tow us out with his 4X4, all very welcome, but doing nothing to lessen the embarrassment! Worse was to come though, unhitching the van to enable me to move the car and the jockey wheel winding handle suddenly broke off. Oh God, what had I done to deserve this?? Then the whole jockey wheel assembly collapsed as we were hitching the van back up after having got the car out of the mud. I was trying to stay calm but was on the point of nervous breakdown at this point!! What else can go wrong??
Well, to be honest, not much else did. We got the van located (second attempt) on a pitch at last, I got my hydraulic jack out to take the place of the jockey wheel and everything from then worked out just fine, although there was an unsuccessful attempt to find a new jockey wheel that afternoon.
Before we left to go to the rally we had decided not to partake of the planned curry evening . This wasn’t a case of being unsociable, more the fact that Gail, Gemma and Adam don’t like curry, so we ate pasta in the caravan instead. We did wander across to meet other people a little later and strolled down to the clubhouse with Sonja.
The clubhouse proved to be a pleasant surprise. I don’t really know what we were expecting, but whatever it was, what we found was better. We wandered in and Gail spotted Nina and Karen, together with their respective other halves, Rich and Nick (acidburnrosie and NickCB). As she had spoken to them earlier when they had delivered the name sign for the caravan window, we went over and sat with them. What a good decision that was! The evening ahead was a quiz night and the six of us decided to form a team. Named by Nina as “The Cunning Stunts” (phew, typed it right!!) we swept all before us in a resounding victory (well alright, a narrow victory), winning £40 which was a great way to subsidise the following night (New Years Eve) for the six of us. Of course, during the evening we got to know out team mates rather better, and met several other T & T members and we were both impressed with just what a friendly crowd we had joined.
I won’t labour the story of the rest of the weekend, we had a great time in the company of, principally Nina, Rich, Karen and Nick and their children, but also with the rest of T & T. Sonja and her able assistants provided lovely pancakes for breakfast on New Years Eve, and she was again the provider, mulled wine, that evening before we headed of to the party.
It was a great party, New Years Day was a pleasant day starting with “brunch” back at the clubhouse, cheese and biscuits later on in Nina and Rich’s awning and a “quick pint“ in the early evening turned out to be another good time (and considerably more than one pint) in the bar, although on a much more low key basis.
Having obtained a new jockey wheel on New Years Eve from Norwich Caravans, we were able to hitch up and go without too much trouble (apart from one horrible moment because I hadn’t tightened it up properly) and we had a pleasant trip home in the sunshine.
We all really enjoyed our time at Cromer. The fact that it was a nice place to be obviously helps, but the main thing that made the weekend so enjoyable was the people. To anyone reading this who has yet to sample a T & T rally I would urge you to get to one soon. I know that we will certainly be attending more!!
Overland with a Camping van
My Journey in 1978
An article by Fibre (Maurice)
I would love to say that driving from Nairobi to Cape Town was the fulfilment of a long-standing dream, but that wasn't the case at all. The trip started as a vague idea, which gradually nurtured itself until -- almost without realising it had happened -- I found myself confronting a Kenyan customs officer in Nairobi, getting the documents for a locally purchased VW dormer van. This required the documentation to drive to the Cape.
It was a moment I had dreaded I had heard nothing but horror stories about the pitfalls awaiting The Traveller in Africa. Tales of long delays, unfriendly officialdom and the need for continual bribery had done little for my confidence.
The man at the customs desk brightened noticeably when he saw me standing in front of him. "What are you going with that?" He jerked his chin at my White and Red home on wheels.
"Drive it to Cape Town," I told him. And it did sound ridiculous. There was a gleam of pitying amusement in his eye as he studied my rumpled appearance, sparse hair and decidedly middle-aged figure (I was 37). "Mzee," he said quietly, using the respectful term of address reserved for the elderly. "Africa is full of fools, but they are usually mtotos (babies). Why don't you leave such idiocies for the young?"
As cheerfully as I could in the circumstances, I agreed with him that (a) I was too old and (b) I was being very foolish. Satisfied that his views were vindicated, he stamped my customs form and wearily waved me through.
In the weeks that followed that day in June 1978, Harriet (my pet name for her) and I covered 6954km, passed through six countries and had 12 punctures. During our two-and-a-half-month journey I was arrested twice as a suspected 'saboteur-scout', beaten up by Tanzanian soldiery, robbed by panga-wielding youths and had a bad fall which cause considerable damage to my hands, and my dignity. I also endured amoebic dysentery and occasional periods of extreme thirst. At one point I even managed to get myself deported.
It happened on my last night in Tanzania, when my little camp in the bush was surrounded by local police and I was hauled away in their version of a Black Maria -- a blue Land Rover -- to the police station. (Harriet being driven by a youth who looked no older than 12) There I spent an uncomfortable night being questioned, punched and pushed around. The officer in command of the district told me that I had been arrested because "white people don't sleep in the bush"; therefore I had to be up to no good.
In the early hours of the morning, I had had enough and threw a tantrum. Taking a calculated risk, I demanded to be locked up, shot or set free. I raved a bit and brandished my British passport as a trump card until nobody was quite sure what to do with me. The upshot was that I was bundled into Harriet and escorted by the Land Rover 24 kilometres to the Zambian border, where I was handed over to a reluctant immigration officer. I was so tired and crotchety that they were just glad to be rid of me.
Despite such difficulties, I had a wonderful time and met with nothing but kindness along the way. The citizens of Africa must surely be among the most hospitable in the world and if they though I was in any way eccentric for undertaking such a venture, they were usually too polite to say so. I made many new friends and was sometimes embarrassed by the generosity shown to me by complete strangers.
One instance that springs immediately to mind was the evening I spent with Eric Kingsley Nyirenda, a Zambian villager who, having shown off Harriet to his friends, invited me to spend the night in his kraal (village). As supper was being prepared in a smoky kitchen hut, I noticed one of Eric's numerous offspring disappearing with a bag of grain on one shoulder. Innocently, I inquired where he was going, only to find myself horrified, yet strangely touched, by Eric's reply: "I know all you wazungu (white people) like steak. So I have sent him to barter the grain for meat." When I protested, he was adamant. "You are my guest. You like steak, so in my house you will eat steak."
The logic was irrefutable, but I reflected a little sadly that in famine-torn Zambia a bag of grain represents food for a fortnight in the average household.
Yet Eric's generosity was no isolated incident. I was seldom allowed to go hungry and I sampled a number of unexpected delights including fried caterpillars (which taste like sweet sausages), porridge made from triticale, a cabbage-like vegetable, and a relish made out of groundnuts and pumpkin leaves.
But hospitality didn't end with food. Although I spent occasional nights in hotels or official campsites, many more were spent in isolated draals or farm homesteads. I even spent on night in a Masai manyatta -- or village -- not an experience I would recommend to the fastidious. The Masai sleep in small crowded huts and their toilet habits are not the most sanitary; eventually I crawled outside and slept under the stars. But the nights I enjoyed most were those spent beneath a convenient wayside tree. It was awe-inspiring to sleep beneath the vast night sky of Africa, and I only had minor problems with the wildlife.
In Tanzania, a leopard wandered along to check me out and, on another occasion, two hyenas displayed an unhealthy interest in Harriet. But my nights were generally undisturbed and my sleep was both peaceful and relaxing.
If the nights were enjoyable, days spent driving were often hard, hot and exhausting. Water was sometimes scarce and the roads seemed to grow longer and more desolate as the sun grew hotter. Whenever my spirits were flagging and I longed for the comforts of home, some little incident of interest or human friendliness would lift me up and keep me pressing onwards.
Typical was one sticky afternoon in the Western Transvaal, when I was tired, sweaty and out of sorts. I was merely going through the motions of driving and progress was minimal.
I saw big, blue car parked up along side the road a short distance ahead, I cursed it thinking of bandits, only to feel thoroughly ashamed of myself when I slowly came alongside the stationary vehicle. A hand clutching an open, frosted bottle of beer was thrust into my path
"You look as though you need it," said the owner of the hand. When the contents of the bottle had disappeared 'without touching the sides', he pressed another on me "for later on".
"Vorster's the name," said this kindly Samaritan, shaking my hand. Then he was gone, leaving me revived and wondering again at the generosity of the human spirit.
This kindness was not confined to ordinary folk either. Officialdom (with the exception of the constabulary in Tanzania) could not have been more helpful. Border crossings were conducted amid much cheerful banter and my papers were seldom given more than a cursory glance. Not once did I need to resort to bribery and the only time I was at all anxious was when a Botswana customs officer wanted to take Harriet for a ride, and was amazed that I had a “house” inside.
Throughout Africa the rate of violent crime is horrific and, prior to my departure, I received many dire warnings on the matter. I took along two excellent locks for my car but, despite the warnings, they remained unused. I left Harriet unattended in towns, villages, beside the road and in thick bush. On occasion, I left her for hours at a time, yet my kit remained untouched. It certainly says a great deal about the basic honesty of the folk I passed among.
One aspect of the trip that did terrify me was the traffic. The road conditions varied considerably: Tanzanian roads were dusty and so full of potholes, while roads in South Africa were wide, fast, tar-macked and very busy.
Twice I was nearly blown right off the road by the slipstream from passing juggernauts and some drivers, particularly in Zimbabwe and South Africa, seemed to take fiendish delight in passing so close to me that I was left frantically to regain control in their wake. Yet I also received much encouragement in the form of friendly waves or a double toot on a horn when they saw the painted sides of Harriet.
I arrived in Cape Town to a great reception at my brother’s home, and I couldn't help wondering what the Kenyan custom chappie would have said had he seen me at that moment. He had been right of course. At 37, I was too old for such a lone venture -- but if I hadn't done it, I'd have missed out on a great deal. Now that it is over, I have forgotten the difficulties and the times when I was lonely, frightened or uncomfortable. I remember the magic moments -- spectacular scenery, crystal dawns, elephants beside the road and the taste of fruit on a hot, dusty day.
