I have a boring Facebook page. If you follow it, you’ll see annoyingly repetitive pictures of my two misfit cats, Thai noodle dishes from my aged, carbon-steel wok, Phish concert panoramas, and, more frequently, countless images of cocktail-hour fire pits on my patio — my so-called, cringey “happy place.”
Every time I spark up one of those fires, it takes me back 45 years to when our family — and a collection of other families in my father’s National Security Agency orbit — would wander out into the woods for long holiday weekends in our pop-up campers. Once camp was set up, the men would quickly light a campfire, encircle it with the family land yachts and open the trunks where the liquor was stashed. We kids ran around in the woods like unsupervised hellions, soaking up our first tastes of freedom. I loved it.
These camping trips kindled my love for the outdoors and served as a gateway to my lifelong fishing and boating addictions. When Dad wasn’t holding happy-hour court around the fire or minding a huge pot of camp-stove spaghetti sauce, he and I would grab the fishing rods and poke around any piece of water we could find. Later, when we bought a larger camper, we’d load our 12-foot Sears, Roebuck & Co. Ted Williams rowboat into the pickup truck, which further expanded the number of places Dad and I could fish and explore.
Those early camping trips inspired me to pack my way into the backcountry of Yellowstone with only a tent and a fly rod, camp out for weeks on the beaches of Northern California, wet a line wherever I could find water, and, eventually, experience the ultimate waterborne camping lifestyle: living aboard a 27-footer for more than a decade during my 20s. Today, the great outdoors is in my backyard, where I enjoy my fires and welcome all sorts of urban wildlife to stop by. None of this would have happened were I not introduced to the outdoors at a young age.
According to the U.S. Bureau of Economic Analysis, the outdoor recreation economy, which includes such activities as boating, fishing, hiking and RVing, was worth $454 billion in 2021 — about 1.9% of the U.S. gross domestic product. Boating and fishing make up a $27.3 billion piece of that pie. The two sports are the largest conventional outdoor activities in the country. Close by, in second place, is RVing, which accounted for $25.1 billion.
This issue has a theme that dips a toe into both of these worlds, two industries that share many similarities. The parallels between the two segments were amplified during the pandemic, when people clamored to get outdoors. Both industries saw exponential growth between 2020 and 2022, a time when waiting lists for boats and RVs often stretched out for two or more years, and outdoor and marine retailers were firmly in the driver’s seat.
As the pandemic fades somewhat into the rear-view mirror, both industries are figuring out how to deal with what people are calling a “normalization” of the markets, where consumers have the upper hand and the days of simple order-taking by salespeople are long gone. As one dealership owner told me at the Marine Retailers Association of the Americas’ Dealer Week: “It’s time to get back to work. There are no free lunches anymore.”
There’s been attrition, too. Some people who bought boats and RVs during the past two years experienced a lack of service and aftercare that left them frustrated and unhappy. Others struggled to learn how to use their new RVs and boats, and were stranded without the answers they needed. Many of them simply exited their respective sports.
The good news is that there is plenty for both industries to learn from each other. Organizations such as the RV Industry Association, the Outdoor Recreation Roundtable, the Recreational Boating & Fishing Foundation, the National Marine Manufacturers Association and the MRAA are working together more closely than ever — not only to retain the campers and boaters gained during the pandemic, but also to recruit the next generation of enthusiasts for each industry. The organizations are also making diversity and inclusion top priorities, to welcome those who may not have previously felt like they could be part of the family.
I firmly believe that this sort of engagement and cooperation will enable people to capture some of the same sort of memories I’ve enjoyed during a lifetime of trekking into the woods and exploring our watery world. We’re stronger, together.
This article was originally published in the March 2023 issue.
