Why toy haulers are the best caravans

In 2005, my then-girlfriend and I audaciously (foolishly!) set off around Australia aboard a late-1990s BMW R1100GS, aka The King of Adventure motorcycles.

King of Adventure it might have been, but when you’re two-up on a long trip, then the allocation of very limited space is paramount.

For us, it worked something like this: the tank-bag contained food and things for the day such as snacks, a map (still needed the paper version back then!), some tools, and so on.

The rear-mounted top box had all the camping stuff, including some cooking implements, a torch and the inflatable mattress. The tent was strapped down on top of that in a waterproof roll bag.

We each had a pannier box. What I knew - and my travelling companion did not - was that her pannier had a cut-away to fit the exhaust-pipe and was therefore five whole litres smaller than my 25-litre version. I hid this fact for the entire trip.

We got engaged at the tip of Cape York, so even if she had found out about my five litres of deception, it was probably too late.

Apart from admitting that I am a less than honest person and perhaps a less-than-ideal husband, I really just wanted to emphasise that when you're on a touring motorcycle, every cubic centimetre matters.

Want to take two pairs of pants? Forget that. A pair of good shoes for the pub? No, you will wear your bike boots.

You get thongs, a few pairs of jocks, some T-shirts and a micro towel. Your toiletries are what fits in a zip-lock bag.

Space was at such a premium we even mailed our thermals and jacket liners to a family member in Queensland for the return trip after we left Alice Springs. This may have been premature, as nights in the central Australian desert in winter are very much sub-zero. Post them from Katherine. You're welcome.

Fast forward nearly 20 years and we have a very different set-up. First of all, there are now three kids, aged 8 to 14. There are also four motorcycles, 10 push-bikes, four surfboards, two windsurfers, a dog, and God knows what else.

All of these items -- at various times and mercifully not all at once -- come on holidays with us.

We’ve progressed from a mid-sized SUV to a dual-cab ute. And we've ditched the two-person tent for a four-room-with-foyer monolith that doesn't fit in many caravan park or campground spaces.

But we're the sort of family that really needs a powered campsite. So we went from a small motorcycle trailer to a larger box trailer. We got a roof box for the car, and crammed in so much gear I could no longer see out of the rearview mirror.

As COVID was kicking in, we did the only smart thing I think we’ve ever done and bought a caravan -- before caravans became more popular (and expensive) than Taylor Swift tickets.

After attempting and failing to get a near-new and ludicrously cheap Jayco Base Station Outback delivered from Tasmania, we settled on a very nice and slightly smaller Jayco Work n Play Outback.

I can now safely say it’s the perfect caravan, and the 'Toy Hauler' genre of caravan is hands-down the only choice for not only our active family, but yours too. 

Do not fight me on this, I’ve brought receipts!

Every family needs space when they road trip; there’s always an extra-bloody-something.

There’s the official extra-luggage, of the “Dad can I bring my snorkel and flippers?” variety, and then there are the things you discover when you’re unpacking at either end of the trip: “Who put an archery set in the toilet? Why does the dog need two chew toys? Who brought the BLOODY XBOX?!” etc.

Before we even embarked on our first caravan road trip, and being an inveterate tinkerer, I realised that perfection in any caravan situation is just one more stupid project away.

First, I added twin 200-watt rooftop solar panels and 240 Amp hours of batteries. Replacing the existing incandescent bulbs with LEDs was the easiest power gain you'll ever make.

For off-grid we added an additional 250-watt folding panel and, after being bored for less than five minutes during lockdowns, I bought and built a DIY 500-watt windmill that is somewhere between awesome and straight-up terrifying. It turns out it doesn't spin like an olde-school farm windmill; it’s more like a turbo-prop at takeoff!

Thanks to a mate who owns a shade sail business, we also added a new annex, and walls for said annex, turning the space into a viable second room. It’s perfect for when there are five of us in close proximity for a week, and I have a new book and a fresh beer and "Love, where are the chips?", and maybe the kids could go down to the beach for a bit...

Whether we're off to our family farm, a caravan park or just off-grid free-camping out the back of somewhere, the Toy Hauler does it all.

It can safely take all four motorbikes in a tangle of tie-downs and Houdini-like roadie packing techniques. Weight distribution is always a concern, so I try and put the heavier bikes near the centre and I don't fill the rear water tank.

If we're not in a motorcycle mood, it will also take all the mountain bikes (I took an eight-bike rack once!) and a 3.0m x 3.0m gazebo to put them under.

Surfboards? Too easy. And yes, we can bring the archery set and that six-foot sloth plushy. I don't want an argument...

If we're going without the toys we can leave the beds in the down position, but we don't do what the previous owners did and let them bounce about, as that just wears out the bunk mounts, linkages and bolts.

We use the floor tie-down points (of which there are many) and strap the beds down so they don't rattle. As we don't need all four bunks, one is converted into a shelf for the kids' clothes, and we did eventually find the box where the switch is hidden (the Nintendo Switch, not the master 12v variety, that is).

This beds-down arrangement makes arrival-at-destination-set-up as easy as any caravan on the market.

Okay then, here come the downsides.

If we're taking the toys -- especially the motorcycles -- then it's not a five-minute process. It’s a project, and I need to be the project manager and treat everyone as staff. If I can ever pack and unpack four motorbikes without swearing, then I'll write a self-help book about it and dedicate the rest of my life to teaching others about my hard-won caravanning wisdom. 

And for every moment of stress pre-trip, then times it by a million on the last day of the holiday. My wife skipped a recent long weekend getaway with the motorbikes and she remarked later that she “missed everything except for the effin’ pack up!”

Times that by infinity if it’s raining on pack-up day; I’m having a PTSD episode just typing that.

Then there's the dreaded weight issue, and distribution of said weight. Unladen, Toy Haulers are pretty much fine like most caravans. But things get potentially dangerous really fast once there's some heavy items on board, especially in the rear 'garage' area.

I now religiously use a ball weight scale and pay close attention to packing to ensure our Toy Hauler tows happily like a sleeping Cavoodle, not an excited Golden Retriever furiously wagging its tail.

Of course, the growing family doesn't help. Our once featherweight 10-year-old is now a 14-year-old six-footer on a full-size Honda CRF250, and he's becoming increasingly verbal about his “issues” in the the back seat of our Ford Ranger. We also need a second fridge, and a bigger dining set for the annexe. I also want a bigger lounge camping chair for post-activity rehydration. 

The solution, of course, is an upgrade in towing rig, so not only have I been eyeing lately a bigger van, but I recently went and had a look at a RAM truck.

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to just 25 litres of storage. Life was much simpler then. Just don't tell my wife. She’s forgotten how awful I really am...

Also by Tom Reynolds: Are two-stroke motorcycles still a rite of passage for young riders?