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10 Realities Of Long-distance Travel (and How To Handle Them Over 60)

Traveling alone over 60 is not for the faint of heart. It’s a mix of stubborn independence, quiet courage, mild delusion, and the firm belief that if you just get through these 45 hours, paradise awaits.

Every year, I fly from Ottawa, Canada, to my home on Koh Lanta, Thailand. It’s an epic journey with two long-haul flights, one short hop, long layovers, immigration lines, and a ferry ride. And every year, I’m reminded that traveling solo, currently at 72, is its own kind of adventure.

Starting the Marathon: Ottawa → Vancouver

I left home early, bracing for Ottawa’s never-ending road construction. Even though I’d checked in online, I received a mysterious message saying my boarding passes would only be issued “after document review.” Nothing like a little pre-flight suspense to wake you up.

The six-hour flight to Vancouver was uneventful. I ate half my Subway sandwich somewhere over the Prairies – domestic flights have become “bring your own dinner and hope for the best.” I watched a documentary about a vegan chef transforming a Nashville pub, which gave me plenty of food for thought as I considered going semi-vegan this winter.

A Ritual Stop with an Old Friend

At Vancouver Airport, I met my cousin Honey in our usual spot at International Departures – a ritual we’ve kept for the past two years. She looked wonderful and brought homemade Greek filo pastries, which I inhaled before remembering I should probably chew.

We caught up on Ottawa news and future plans and reflected on how we’ve reconnected more deeply through these yearly visits. It’s amazing how a two-hour airport reunion can feel grounding when you’re about to cross the world alone.

The Big One: Seventeen Hours in the Sky

The flight to Bangkok was full, and rain hammered the windows. Then the pilot made an announcement I definitely didn’t need:

“We’ll be starting one engine here and the other just before takeoff.”

Was I supposed to help?

Once airborne, turbulence shook us for the first few hours, but on a 17-hour flight, it becomes background noise. I tried watching The Studio, last year’s Emmy darling, but after four episodes of everything going wrong, I’d had enough. I switched to a marathon cooking competition – 24 chefs cooking nonstop for 24 hours – which kept me entertained for nearly eight hours.

Between episodes, I napped, stretched, and played Sudoku – my reliable comfort activity in the sky.

The Back-of-the-Plane Yoga Studio

I chose a seat near the kitchen and washrooms, which turned out to be wise. The flight attendants encouraged movement, and soon the back of the plane looked like a floating yoga class. Legs stretched against walls. People touching toes. One man attempting mid-air tai chi.

By hour 10, I stopped checking the time. When I finally looked again, only two hours remained – a small but satisfying victory.

Bangkok: The Six-Hour Layover

Immigration was slow, retrieving luggage took ages, and checking in again for the Krabi flight pushed my travel time close to 30 hours. I treated myself to the nicer lounge – quiet lighting, deep chairs, a small buffet, fancy coffees, and delicious Thai puddings. It felt more like a boutique hotel lobby than an airport.

I debated changing out of my embroidered Happy Cat jeans but decided they’d earned the right to finish the journey with me.

The Final Stretch: Bangkok → Krabi → Koh Lanta

The short flight to Krabi was smooth. My driver was waiting, and I instantly fell asleep in the car. An hour of deep, dreamless sleep revived me just enough to enjoy the ferry crossing, where the sky melted into blue and red as the sun set. A quiet, beautiful welcome back.

Home, Finally

At Happy Cat Villa, my cat Phai greeted me with a mix of suspicion and relief. She glued herself to my side but stared at me as if assessing whether I was really me.

I showered, unpacked a few things, and collapsed. Miraculously, I slept 10 hours straight. Maybe this year the 12-hour time difference won’t be so bad, I thought.

Wishful thinking for a 72-year-old… but hope springs eternal.

10 Realities of Long-Distance Travel (and the Lessons They Taught Me)

After 25 years of hurling around the planet in a tin can, I’ve learned a few things. This list evolves with every trip, but the following 10 truths always hold.

1. It’s Long, and It Feels Even Longer

It will seem never-ending, but it will end. Accepting this makes the journey far less stressful.

2. Ask for Help – You Don’t Have to Do Everything Alone

If you feel stressed or uncertain, ask. Airline staff, airport employees, and even fellow travelers are often more than happy to help.

3. You’re Always Extremely Close to Strangers

In lines, boarding tunnels, and seats – people are everywhere. Most rudeness isn’t personal. A little patience goes a long way.

4. The Food Will Be Terrible, So Plan Accordingly

Bring your own. Future-you will thank past-you.

5. Bring Your Own Earphones

Airlines often charge for theirs, and yours will block out noise and help pass the time.

6. Keep Your Blanket

Flights get cold fast. You’ll be grateful later.

7. Check-In Can Be Stressful – Be Prepared

Have your documents ready. It calms everything.

8. Immigration Lines Can Be Intimidating

Complete your visa and arrival forms before landing.

9. Expect Unexpected Noises – Ignore Them

Engines revving, doors thumping, wheels going up – it’s all normal.

10. Stay Engaged – Boredom Is Real

Bring books, puzzles, e-readers, or simple crafts. Wi-Fi is often available, but don’t rely on it.

Why I Still Do It

Despite delays, turbulence, odd announcements, missing showers, and mid-air yoga enthusiasts, I handled it with surprising calm. Preparation helps. So does remembering that at the end of this long, demanding trip is the place I want to be.

A 45-hour journey isn’t easy, but it’s worth every cramped seat, every line, and every moment of exhaustion.

Whirling around the planet in a tin can isn’t as bad as people think. And once it’s over, I forget the hard parts… until next time.

Next spring, I’ll be even better prepared – with more snacks, more layers, more gum… fewer candies.

Click for free access to my Substack, Retired Way Out There, where I publish a bi-monthly newsletter and provide handouts.