When you’re caring for someone with dementia, the idea of traveling long distances might seem impossible. The thought alone can feel overwhelming: medical appointments to reschedule, medications to manage, the unpredictability of cognitive changes, and the sheer logistics of moving someone you love across time zones and unfamiliar places.
Yet travel is possible. It requires planning, flexibility, and a willingness to redefine what adventure means. Running With Cat chronicles eight years of nomadic life with Early-Onset Alzheimer’s, proving that meaningful journeys remain within reach even as the disease progresses.
Why Travel Still Matters
For many caregivers and their loved ones, staying home feels safest. But isolation carries its own weight. Travel offers something powerful: shared experiences that belong to both of you, not just the disease. A new landscape, a different rhythm of days, the simple act of going somewhere together can remind both caregiver and loved one that life still holds moments worth savoring.
There’s also something about physical movement and novelty that can benefit people with dementia. New environments, fresh air, and the engagement of travel sometimes help maintain alertness and mood in ways routine at home cannot. And for you as a caregiver, stepping out of your usual setting can provide psychological relief, a mental break from the weight of routine caregiving.
The question is not whether you should travel. The real question is how.
Planning the Route
Start by choosing destinations carefully. Early in the disease progression, more ambitious travel is possible. Think about what matters most: climate, accessibility, medical infrastructure, or personal meaning. The author of Running With Cat and his partner chose to run marathons and half-marathons across Madagascar, Bhutan, Antarctica, and countless other destinations. Your goals may be different, but the principle holds: select places that feel worth the effort.
Consider these practical factors:
- Stability of healthcare systems and language familiarity
- Climate and physical demands appropriate to current abilities
- Time of year that avoids extreme weather
- Proximity to airports or transportation hubs
- Accommodation quality and accessibility
- Distance from your home base (shorter trips earlier, longer journeys while energy and clarity remain)
Break longer journeys into stages. Instead of one grueling 20-hour travel day, build in stops. Rest days matter more than ever. A person with dementia can become disoriented by constant motion, unfamiliar beds, and disrupted routines. Short segments of travel with longer stays in each location provide stability while still allowing you both to experience new places.
Managing Medications and Medical Care
This is non-negotiable. Before booking anything, coordinate with your loved one’s neurologist or primary care doctor. Ask for:
- A letter summarizing their diagnosis, current medications, and dosages
- Copies of recent medical records and imaging results
- The doctor’s contact information for emergencies
- Names of the same medications in other countries (medications have different brand names internationally)
- Prescriptions with enough supply to last the entire trip, plus extra
If traveling internationally, research visa requirements, customs rules for medications, and the quality of medical care in each destination. Some countries have excellent healthcare systems; others do not. Knowing what you’re working with reduces panic if something goes wrong.
Pack medications in their original containers with clear labels. Keep them on your person during flights, never in checked luggage. Store backup medications separately from your main supply. Set phone alarms or written reminders for dosing times, especially when crossing time zones. Dehydration and medication timing both affect cognition, so staying on schedule matters more during travel.
Adapting to Changing Abilities
One hard truth: the disease progresses even as you travel. The five-year journey described in Running All Over the World eventually shifted in pace and focus. What started as full marathons in distant countries became half-marathons, then shorter distances, then walks. The experiences remained meaningful, but they changed shape.
Build flexibility into your plans. Have backup activities in case your loved one is having a difficult day. Know where the quietest, most peaceful spots are in each location. Accept that some plans will change. On good days, you might explore widely. On harder days, sitting in a cafe with a familiar beverage and watching the world pass by is still travel. It’s still time together.
Physical safety becomes increasingly important. Ensure accommodations are accessible, with clear pathways and minimal hazards. If cognitive decline includes increased wandering or confusion about place, arrange rooms near staff or in areas you can monitor. Wear identification bracelets or keep a recent photo in your wallet. These precautions aren’t pessimistic; they’re practical.
The Emotional Journey
Caregiving is emotionally demanding. Travel doesn’t erase that. It simply places it in a different context. You’ll likely experience moments of joy alongside moments of frustration or sadness. That’s normal. That’s honest.
The author of Running With Cat describes these experiences openly, sharing both highs and lows. That vulnerability matters. When you travel with someone who has dementia, you’re not escaping the disease; you’re living alongside it while building memories. Some of those memories will be beautiful. Some will be hard. All of them will be real.
Take photos and especially videos to truly capture their personality , but don’t let the camera become a barrier. Write things down, not for perfection, but to remember details later. Talk about what you’re experiencing together. These small acts of presence and documentation help preserve the emotional arc of your journey.
Starting Small
If long-distance travel feels impossible right now, start smaller. A weekend trip to a nearby place. A day trip somewhere new. Build confidence and rhythm gradually. Observe what works and what doesn’t. Short journeys teach you what adaptations matter most before you invest in longer, more complex trips.
The goal isn’t to replicate a pre-diagnosis travel style. It’s to create something different but equally meaningful. Sometimes the best journeys are the quietest ones, taken slowly, with full attention to the person beside you.
Traveling with someone who has dementia is unconventional, but it’s possible. It requires honesty about limitations, planning around medical needs, and flexibility when things shift. But it also honors the belief that life, even a life reshaped by disease, is worth living fully. That’s the promise of every journey, no matter how far you go.