Unlikely nomads: Senior single women take up life on the road

When Charlotte Hagemann, a pumpkin decorator from New Jersey, rumbles into Slab City in her motor home each winter she sets up next to Carl Gross - a sturdy World War II veteran and her high school sweetheart.

For a few months, Ms. Hagemann and Mr. Gross rekindle old ties and even host a St. Valentine's Day party. But as soon as the temperature climbs toward 100, she's gone, leaving her "gentleman friend" to fend for himself.

"I just follow the sun," says Hagemann over sandwiches with friends in her well-appointed motor home whose wheels are covered in canvas skirts. "I don't go nowhere I need winter clothes."

With spouses out of the picture and their children grown, hundreds of senior women are hitting the road for good, leaving retirement communities, shuffleboard tournaments, and the snow far behind.

No one knows how many single women roam the campgrounds, roadsides, and truck stops of North America in motor homes and trailers. But their RVs outnumber those of men at some gathering spots, and their blend of independence and moxie is on display to anyone who bothers to look.

"When people ask me where I live, I say wherever my motor home is parked," says Mary Richardson, a divorced grandmother and winter resident of Slab City.

Yet even though these nomads are loners, they are far from alone. Here in Slab City, a ragtag community of snowbirds near the Arizona border, there are no fewer than four social clubs, including the Wandering Individuals Network or WIN, sometimes referred to by the menfolk as "Women in Need."

The Traveling Pals singles club charges $15 per winter for a communal P.O. box, and offers afternoon "happy hours" under the shade of a tarp and movie nights featuring DVDs played on a computer monitor. There are plans to dance the night away at coming Slab City "prom." But many women reject any permanent arrangements that might tie them down.

Men "want someone to come home and take care of them," says Jody Schmuki, an energetic former Los Angeles court clerk. "We outlast men, and I think we're really more adventurous than men. The men don't like to travel. The ladies like to go out and see things, even if we won't see our friends for a year."

Women traveling on their own sometimes turn to subterfuge for their own sense of safety. "I've seen very long chains that go out to a large, empty collar and a big bowl of water, implying there's a big dog inside the RV," says Suzi Dow, coauthor of the "US National Forest Service Campground Guide." "And some go to the Salvation Army and get the biggest pair of old work boots and leave them next to the [RV] entrance. The message: The owner of these boots is inside."

But even if women would prefer a a partner to fill those boots, older American women must deal with a shortage of available bachelors. The 2000 census reported that among the 65-and-older crowd, there are 70 men for every 100 women. The female-to-male ratio in Slab City is about 3-to-1.

If relationships do develop among RV dwellers, known as "tepee creeping," they tend to last until it's time to pick up stakes and move on, keeping in touch by cellphone and e-mail - or not.

Hagemann, who decorates and sells pumpkins with paintings of cartoon characters, takes advantage of a national camper service that forwards her mail as she travels among New Jersey, Oregon, California, and Florida. Other nomads - "full-timers" in the lingo of the road - will head north to Canada and states like Idaho and Wisconsin, returning south as winter approaches.

Page: 1 | 2