Blue Tongue XH15 vs Renault Clio

What's the difference?

Given that Blue Tongue is a relative latecomer to the hybrid caravan market, it’s done its homework.

For $50,000, the HX15 is a great value, highly capable off-road camper with a comprehensive list of features to keep it self-contained and self-sufficient when you're camping.

That it includes an island bed, 2000-watt inverter, grey-water tank and enough battery capacity to free camp almost endlessly, is a testament to all that. 

The Clio RS is still a ton of fun and in Cup spec, probably the best compromise between price and livability. Despite its advancing years (it turns five this year, so ready to start kindy) and big brother Megane hogging the limelight with a fancy new model on the way, the Clio is a stayer. It's missing some frustratingly obvious things like CarPlay, AEB, rear airbags and rear cross-traffic alert, but it's hardly alone in the segment. 

With the departure of the Fiesta ST, though, the Clio returns to the top of the list of best small hot hatches on sale today.

A lot of these hybrid campers are little more than expensive metal boxes with a large bed inside, although the Blue Tongue is a little more than that.

It has a fold-out extension from the driver's side of the camper, which contains the queen-sized bed. By expanding sideways, rather than rearwards, Blue Tongue's managed to create access around the bed from three sides. The upside is, no one ever has to climb over the other, or shuffle along it, to get in. It's a feature almost unique in the genre.
Considering the XH15 also fits a small shower and toilet cubicle, cosy dinette, a small sink, bunk bed and heaps of storage, it's quite a practical little space that doesn't feel as cramped as it sounds.

The dinette lounge is good for the occasional meal away from the bugs, while the bunk above it folds up to improve access. And even if you're not travelling with a child, it makes a great shelf.

The en-suite, if we can call it that, is naturally compact. With its own toilet and shower plumbed into the grey-water tank, this is a fully self-contained camper, which is becoming increasingly more important at many free and remote bush camps.

The Clio's interior is certainly snug. Rear seat passengers do okay for legroom but headroom is a mite marginal with the falling roofline for six footers. There are no cupholders out back, that curious French habit of supplying just a couple of cup receptacles of different and weird sizes persists. The front doors have space for bottles, the rears do not.

The boot is class-competitive at 300 litres (worth knowing the Trophy loses 70 litres to the Cup) and with the seats down stretches to a claimed 1146L.

The 15-foot off-roader is well balanced behind our tow car. At tare, there's 150kg on the ball, which gives it room to move up once a load is added. We carried a load of camping gear, nearly 200 litres of water and the fridge, all of which helps add stability to the combination.

Towing the XH15 along the highway, it tracked beautifully and even with soft, off-road suspension it didn't wobble around. Onto the narrower, winding roads into Wee Jasper, it was compliant and followed without incident.

When the drive became a bit challenging, such as when we had to navigate steep, loose tracks into our campsite, the camper's high-clearance, angled cutaways and off-road hitch made sure none of its underbody scraped or bumped on the ground.

It rides on coil-spring, independent suspension with dual-shock absorbers each side and this is a robust, well-proven system, which is really great when roads become a little rougher. 

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis. The Cup chassis became a thing just over a decade ago and is lauded by the fans as The One To Have. I've not always been convinced of this as my earlier drives of the Cup-equipped machines have usually been in close proximity to the Sport chassis. 

The Cup is slightly lower than the Sport, with 15 per cent stiffer springs and dampers and perhaps more importantly it scores 18-inch wheels with Dunlop Sport Maxx RT2 tyres, which you can reasonably expect to be a bit firmer than the 17s with Goodyear F1s on the Sport. And they are.

However, in most situations, the Cup chassis is perfectly benign. You certainly feel the bumps and lumps, but you haven't bought a Cup chassis for Lexus-like isolation. It's certainly sharper than the Sport chassis and when you're really giving it a go around the bends, the comfort deficit is more than made up for by the extra grip and poise.

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis.

The chassis is aided and abetted by a torquey 1.6-turbo that cheerfully...no, gleefully spins to the redline which could do with another thousand revs, but that's forced induction for you. The aluminium shift paddles need a good positive pull to get a gear, but that gear is delivered quickly and effortlessly. The Clio is a great deal of fun in Sport and Race modes, with throttle mappings and gearshifts becoming more aggressive as you switch through the modes.

The brakes are tremendously effective and the electronic limited slip diff (*cough* brake-based torque vectoring) ensures you'll hit your apexes and the tyres spend more time gripping than spinning.

But it's not all hairpins and off-camber left-right-lefts, is it? Plenty of owners have to live with the car in traffic day to day. Driving the Cup in isolation, I've changed my mind about it. I reckon it's the best of the two chassis settings. The city ride is better than decent, with the hard edges potholes chamfered off by the dampers and decent compliance. It's not too noisy, either.