By Mary R. Johnson
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You may not travel the way you once did—and that doesn’t mean you have to stop.
There was a time when I didn’t give much thought to how far I had to walk through an airport. I could carry multiple pieces of luggage, hurry up a flight of stairs, squeeze into an economy seat and sit there for hours without thinking about how my body would feel afterward. Most of my flights were shorter then—four to six hours at the longest.
Today, I travel farther than I did when I was younger. I’ve built a life abroad and taken international flights that younger me never experienced.
But I don’t travel the same way.
Carrying something heavy for too long can become overwhelming. A seemingly endless airport terminal matters. A long flight in a cramped seat is much harder on my body. Lots of stairs are no longer something I tackle without thinking about what comes afterward.
I can still travel. I simply have to travel differently.
And according to recent research, I’m far from alone. AARP’s 2026 Travel Trends research found that nearly two-thirds of adults 50 and older plan to travel this year. More importantly, AARP concluded that health considerations and accessibility needs often shape how older adults travel rather than determine whether they travel at all.
Perhaps that’s the conversation we need to have more often. Not, “Am I getting too old to travel?” But, “How can I make travel work for the person I am now?”
When Did the Way You Used to Travel Stop Working?
For many of us, there isn’t one dramatic moment. The changes sneak up on us.
Maybe pulling your suitcase through an enormous terminal leaves you exhausted. The overnight flight that once seemed like an efficient way to save a hotel night now leaves you needing a day to recover. Perhaps that charming hotel without an elevator suddenly isn’t so charming when your room is four flights up.
None of this necessarily means you cannot travel. It means the equation has changed.
One of the hardest parts of adapting is letting go of comparisons with our younger selves. It’s easy to think, I used to be able to do this. I did, too. But why should my current travel plans be designed around the abilities of a woman I was decades ago? The better question is: what works for me today?
Do You Have to Be Disabled for Accessibility to Matter?
Absolutely not. Accessibility exists on a much wider spectrum than many travelers realize.
AARP research found that 29% of travelers 50-plus were traveling with a disability, physical condition, chronic health issue, or other age-related condition that made travel difficult. Among those travelers, mobility challenges were the most commonly reported difficulty, and 55% had changed how they traveled.
But what about the person who doesn’t consider herself disabled? She can walk—but perhaps not comfortably for miles. She can climb stairs—but repeated flights may hurt. She can carry her suitcase—but doing so through an airport may leave her exhausted. She can stand in line—but 45 minutes on her feet may make the rest of the afternoon miserable.
That’s why accessibility should become part of trip planning long before we think we “need” it. Instead of asking, “Can I do this?” ask, “What will doing this require from my body?” That small shift can change how you plan an entire trip.
What Part of Travel Takes More Out of You Now?
Sometimes the destination isn’t the hardest part. Getting there is.
Airports are a good example—long security lines, distant gates, crowded boarding areas, escalators, stairs, and sometimes a mad dash between terminals. Luggage is a particular challenge: among air travelers with health or age-related conditions that make travel difficult, half reported problems handling luggage aboard the plane, while 36% struggled with luggage after reaching their destination.
I’ve become much more aware of weight. It’s not simply whether I can lift a bag—it’s how long I’ll be handling it, how far I’ll pull it, and how I’ll feel afterward. That’s why lighter luggage, wheels that move easily, and fewer unnecessary items matter more to me now.
A few practical moves that help at the airport:
- Request assistance in advance.Most airlines let you add a wheelchair or mobility assistance request when you book, or at least 48 hours ahead by phone. In the US, travelers can also contact TSA Cares before a flight to arrange screening support.
- Look into “meet and assist” services.Many international airports offer paid porter or escort services that walk you from curb to gate, handle bags, and help with connections—often for less than you’d expect.
- Pack medications in your carry-on, in original labeled containers, with a printed prescription list. Rules on carrying medication (and quantities) vary by country, so check the destination’s customs guidance before you fly internationally.
Want a checklist for all of this? Grab the free Senior Travel Toolkit — it walks through airport assistance requests, packing light without leaving essentials behind, and building a realistic pre-trip timeline.
When Does Comfort Become a Necessity?
This is something I’ve had to rethink, particularly when it comes to flying. More legroom once sounded like a luxury. After much longer international flights, I don’t see it that way anymore.
That doesn’t automatically mean buying a first- or business-class ticket. Extra-legroom economy or premium economy may offer another option. An aisle seat may make it easier to stand and move periodically.
Someone else’s nonnegotiable may be entirely different: an elevator, a walk-in shower, air-conditioning, a hotel close to restaurants, an airport wheelchair, a direct flight, a day without scheduled activities after arrival.
This is where we need to stop defining comfort according to what somebody else considers necessary. What helps you arrive ready to enjoy your trip? If something significantly affects that answer, it deserves a place in your travel plans.
Can You Afford to Travel Differently?
Here’s the uncomfortable part: adapting travel can cost more. A direct flight may cost more than one with two connections. Extra legroom costs more. A centrally located hotel with an elevator may cost more than a bargain option farther out. And cost already weighs heavily on older travelers—AARP’s August 2026 research on international travel found that 53% of adults 50-plus identified overall travel expenses as an obstacle.
So “just fly business class” isn’t realistic advice for most people. Instead, budget for comfort and accessibility selectively:
- Pay for extra legroom but choose modest accommodations.
- Pay more for the nonstop flight and stay at your destination longer.
- Spend $25 on airport transportation instead of navigating two trains and a bus with luggage.
- Stay somewhere more centrally located so you spend less getting around during the trip.
AARP reports that 89% of travelers 50-plus at least sometimes shop for bargains, and more than half use loyalty discounts or rewards to reduce travel costs. The goal isn’t to spend more everywhere—it’s deciding where a little more spending removes a barrier that matters to you.
One line item worth budgeting for: consider SafetyWing travel insurance or policies that cover pre-existing medical conditions and include medical evacuation; it’s worth the extra premium for international trips, especially if a health issue could interrupt travel or require care abroad. Standard trip-cancellation insurance often excludes pre-existing conditions unless purchased within a specific window after booking—read the fine print before you buy.
Does Your Itinerary Still Match Your Energy?
This may be where slow travel becomes particularly valuable as we age. There’s a familiar vacation rhythm: arrive Monday, sightsee Tuesday, tour Wednesday, change cities Thursday, excursion Friday, another city Saturday. If that sounds exhausting before you’ve even booked it, listen to yourself.
AARP found that travelers managing health or disability-related challenges were making practical changes: choosing destinations requiring less walking, relying more on cars, taking shorter trips, and avoiding multistop journeys.
Other ways to adapt: stay seven nights instead of three. Plan one major activity instead of three. Build an unscheduled afternoon into your itinerary. Give yourself a recovery day after a long international flight. Sit at the café instead of rushing through it. Choose a neighborhood where food, transportation, and everyday necessities are close by.
Slowing down doesn’t necessarily mean experiencing less. Sometimes it gives us enough energy to actually experience what’s around us.
Traveling Solo Changes the Equation Again
Everything above gets harder—or at least different—when there’s no one beside you to hand off a suitcase to, split a taxi with, or flag down a wheelchair while you hold the gate. A lot of us are traveling solo after 50, by choice or circumstance, and accessibility planning for one looks a little different.
If you’re on your own, lean harder into the things that reduce physical strain: airport assistance you book yourself rather than relying on a companion, luggage light enough to manage alone, accommodations within easy reach of what you need daily. It’s also worth building in a check-in habit—sharing your itinerary with someone at home, or using a travel app that flags your location—simply because there’s no travel partner to notice if something’s off.
Solo travel after 50 isn’t a smaller version of traveling with someone else. It just asks you to be your own advocate a little more deliberately.
A Word on Accessibility Abroad
If you’re traveling internationally, it helps to know that accessibility standards and assistance services aren’t consistent from country to country. What’s reliably available at a US or European airport—wheelchair assistance on request, ramps, accessible restrooms—may be inconsistent or harder to arrange elsewhere. It’s worth researching accessibility norms at your destination before you go and building extra time and flexibility into travel days when support may be less predictable.
What Do You Need Permission to Do Differently?
This may be the most important question of all. Sometimes the obstacle isn’t our body. It’s pride.
We don’t want the wheelchair because we can walk. We don’t want anyone handling the suitcase because we can carry it ourselves. We don’t want to skip the excursion because everyone else is going. We don’t want to admit that six hours of sightseeing sounds miserable.
But assistance doesn’t have to be reserved for the moment when something becomes impossible. If airport assistance means you arrive at your gate without exhausting yourself, use it. Take the elevator. Check the bag. Take the taxi. Choose the aisle seat. Tell the tour guide you need a break. Spend the afternoon at the café. Skip something. Rest.
None of these things makes you less adventurous. In fact, making these adjustments may be precisely what allows you to keep being adventurous.
Travel for the Person You Are Now
I travel differently today. I’m more conscious of luggage. I think about how long I’ll be sitting, how much space I’ll have, and how far I’ll have to walk. I consider stairs, transportation, rest, and how much energy the journey itself will demand.
Those things weren’t at the top of my list when I was younger. But something else has changed, too: I’m traveling farther. I’m staying longer. I’m experiencing cultures in ways I didn’t when I was younger.
My changing needs haven’t ended my travels. They’ve taught me to become a different kind of traveler. Perhaps that’s one of the freedoms that comes with getting older: we no longer have to prove that we can travel the way we once did. We can design the experience around who we are now.
Before your next trip, don’t just ask whether you can manage the flight, carry the suitcase, climb the stairs, or keep up with the itinerary. Ask yourself: what would make this easier, safer, and more comfortable for me now?
Then give yourself permission to plan accordingly. Because adapting the way you travel isn’t giving up. It may be exactly what keeps you traveling.