Adventure Travel Is Increasingly Not Just for the Young
The average age of participants has risen over the past few years, outfitters say, thanks in part to better gear and more-accommodating trips
4 min
When Peter Cox wrapped up his career as a paediatric critical-care doctor at age 65, he celebrated by signing up for the Tour d’ Afrique, a transcontinental bike trip with TDA Global Cycling. The roughly 5,600-mile route from Cairo to Cape Town spans 10 countries over 74 days of riding with just 28 rest days. Riders average 74 miles a day and spend only 10 nights in hotels. They camp the rest of the journey.
Cox wasn’t the oldest participant. The group had five riders over 70.
Outfitters specialising in adventure travel say the average age of their customers has ticked upward since Covid, according to a survey by travel research company Skift. At TDA, for example, the average client age currently is 62, compared with 57 pre pandemic. And some 6% of its clients last year were over 75; before the pandemic, the percentage never exceeded 1%, the company says.
Adventure South NZ, a New Zealand-based outfitter, says the average age of its hiking and biking guests was 55 during the 10 years before the pandemic. It jumped to 65 directly after.
A U.S.-based operator focusing on trips for women, Adventures in Good Company, says its average guest age rose to 62 in 2023, compared with 58 pre pandemic, and on many of its most-challenging trips, ages skewed even higher. Last year a 73-year-old completed a nine-day slackpacking trip along the Appalachian Trail in Georgia that averaged 7 to 16 miles a day, and an 80-year-old woman completed a nine-day trekking tour of Mont Blanc in France.
About 4.1 million Americans will reach 65 years old this year . “Sixty is the new 40,” says Shannon Stowell , president of the Adventure Travel Trade Association. “My dad stopped being active at 50.… People are living longer, healthier lives and are more active than ever.”
Intensity with comfort
Adventure travel doesn’t have to be as intense as it once was. Stowell says it has gained popularity with an older demographic in part because there are more comforts available, such as lodges with good food and guides who will transfer your gear. “Trekking to Machu Picchu or Everest Base Camp used to be so much more hard-core,” he says. “Better gear and more professionalism in guiding have made these adventures more accessible.”
Also, clients in the 55-plus crowd have traveled more than their parents and grandparents did, Stowell says. “They’ve done Rome and Paris. Now they want to go deeper to places like Mongolia,” he says.
Cox, who is now 70 and lives in Toronto, rode 2,547 miles from Bangkok to Ho Chi Minh City last year. This spring, his wife, 60, will join him on a 35-day, 1,637-mile bike expedition in Morocco. And in 2025, he plans to pedal 3,295 miles in the Himalayas from Srinagar, India, to Kathmandu, Nepal.
“I’ve never been on a cruise or to an all-inclusive resort,” he says. “The nice part of cycling is you’re moving at a speed that allows you to interact physically and emotionally with the environment.”
On long rides, Cox experiences discomfort in his shoulders and hips, but he says regular stretching has kept most aches at bay.
Rita Tellerman of New York City celebrated her 70th birthday in 2019 by cycling 1,885 miles through Madagascar with TDA Global Cycling. The trip featured 31 days of riding, nine rest days and a mix of hotel stays and camping.
“It ticked all of the areas that took me out of my comfort zone,” she says. “It was my first trip to a Third World country. I had no clue about camping equipment. And I’d never ridden a gravel bike.” The retired public-health nutritionist started cycling at age 50 and says her speed isn’t what it once was. “It pisses me off when I can’t keep up with the 50-and 60-year-olds,” she says.
Time and money
Such trips require significant time and money, two assets that many older people tend to have at their disposal. Monika Sundem , chief executive of trip planner Adventure Life, says her company’s trips, which average eight to 10 days, cost $600 to $800 a day per person. Her customers in the post-65 range, meanwhile, have gone from 23.5% in 2019 to 35% last year, and they are booking such trips as treks in Patagonia, mountain biking in Ecuador and climbing in the Alaskan backcountry.
Todd Rutledge , owner of expedition specialist Mountain Trip, says 60-plus customers make up 19% of clients on his Alaska Range itineraries. “A lot of people tell us they didn’t want to go away when their kids were at home,” he says.
“Our trips are a hefty investment,” says Rutledge, whose multi-week to two-months-long expeditions typically cost $10,000 to $60,000. Most require a high level of fitness, too. “People age 65 and older statistically are more likely to experience some form of altitude sickness,” he says. “We’re not physiologists or trainers so in 2018 we partnered with a company to design personalised training programs for guests—and most, particularly our older guests, take advantage.”
Deb Shucka, 72, of Battle Ground, Wash., walks and hikes regularly to maintain her fitness for hiking vacations. She celebrated her 70th birthday trekking el Camino de Costa Rica, a roughly 175-mile cross-country trail with a peak elevation of more than 7,600 feet.
“At one point our guide told us, ‘Every morning starts with breakfast and a hill,’ and he wasn’t joking,” she says. “I had to stop a bunch on the hills but I never felt impaired,” she says. Guides transferred bags, which she says made the 16-day trip more appealing. Along the way she slept in tents, cabins and on the floor of a village community centre.
Last year, Shucka completed the Cape Camino, a roughly 400-mile route in South Africa, and she is hoping to trek in Ireland this fall. “When I retired at 63 it dawned on me I have to do these things now even if my husband doesn’t love to travel,” she says. “I’ve fallen in love with travelling by myself .”
Surf’s up
Betsy Cuthberton, 65, an accountant in Vail, Colo., and her retired husband, Mike Cuthberton, 66, recently took a vacation in Costa Rica so they could learn to surf. “We aren’t sit-on-the-beach people,” the wife says. “We do TRX classes and yoga a few times a week so we’re still physically capable of trying anything.” The couple, who are devoted skiers, booked a weeklong stay with Surf Synergy, a surf camp in Jaco that incorporates training, yoga and massages into the programming.
Surf Synergy co-founder Marcel Oliveira says he has seen an uptick in 65-plus guests wanting to surf for the first time. He assigns each guest two coaches so they always have someone with them in the water, whether taking off on a wave or getting out of the water. Betsy Cuthberton stood up on her first wave, and her husband was up and riding by the end of the first day.
“Not once did anyone say, ‘You’re too old,’ ” she says. “I believe staying young is embracing a mindset where you’re always learning.”
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AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.
4 min
A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.
For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.
There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.
When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.
That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.
Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.
By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.
In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.
Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.
Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”
Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”
Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.
AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.
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