{"id":17166,"date":"2026-04-29T10:10:56","date_gmt":"2026-04-29T10:10:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/healthyaging.net\/magazine\/?p=17166"},"modified":"2026-05-14T10:51:43","modified_gmt":"2026-05-14T10:51:43","slug":"shinnageh-at-sixty-one-what-a-solo-ride-to-alaska-taught-me-about-living-fully","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/healthyaging.net\/magazine\/spring-summer-2026\/shinnageh-at-sixty-one-what-a-solo-ride-to-alaska-taught-me-about-living-fully\/","title":{"rendered":"Shinnageh at Sixty-One: What a Solo Ride to Alaska Taught Me About Living Fully"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Michael Yang <\/p><\/p>\n

T<\/span>here is a Korean word, \uc2e0\ub098\uac8c (shinnageh)<\/strong>, pronounced shin-nah-geh<\/em>. It is an adverb which means \u201cin a lively, joyful, and energetic way\u2014full of excitement and positive enthusiasm.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the summer of 2023, I took a shinnageh motorcycle trip from Los Angeles to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, by myself. It took 10,450 miles of riding and 37 days.<\/p>\n

I was 61 years old.<\/p>\n

That number\u201461\u2014carries weight in our culture. It\u2019s often a quiet signal to slow down, to be careful, to stay within the boundaries of what is considered \u201creasonable.\u201d By that age, many people believe they\u2019ve already lived their most adventurous years. They begin trading boldness for predictability, or exploration for comfort.<\/p>\n

But I had a different idea.<\/p>\n

The Myth of \u201cToo Late\u201d<\/h3>\n

Somewhere along the way, many of us absorb the belief that there is an expiration date on new beginnings. We think:<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have done that when I was younger.\u201d<\/em>\n\u201cIt\u2019s too risky now.\u201d<\/em>\n\u201cPeople my age don\u2019t do things like this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

These thoughts begin to whisper around us. They sound logical, even responsible. But over time, I began to feel that these thoughts quietly shrink our world.<\/p>\n

For me, the motorcycle trip wasn\u2019t just about covering miles\u2014it was about challenging that quiet voice.<\/p>\n

Because the truth is, aging doesn\u2019t take away our ability to explore. It only changes how we approach it. We become more intentional. More aware. More appreciative. In many ways, we become better equipped for adventure, not less.<\/p>\n

The Call of the North<\/h3>\n

\u201cPrudhoe Bay, Alaska, is a name that sparks both excitement and dread among adventure riders. Perched at the northern edge of Alaska on the Arctic Ocean, it\u2019s not only the northernmost point in the United States reachable by road, but also an emblem of human tenacity. First developed in the 1970s following vast oil discoveries, Prudhoe Bay stands as a rugged frontier. For motorcyclists, it presents a formidable test: riding the Dalton Highway, 414 miles of gravel and mud, isolation, and jaw-dropping Arctic scenery. Conquering it bestows a rare sense of triumph\u2014one shared by only a few, including Karl, a friend I travel with, who had completed the ride solo a few years before.<\/p>\n

In the summer of 2023, I set my sights on Prudhoe Bay and Tuktoyaktuk on the Canadian side\u2014another northernmost motorable point on the Arctic. The combined journey covered more than 11,000 miles of riding, including more than 2,000 miles on unforgiving gravel roads such as the Dempster Highway in Canada and the Dalton Highway in Alaska. Grizzly bears, volatile weather, and stretches devoid of cell service loomed large, not to mention raging wildfires and fresh reports of biker fatalities on remote highways.<\/p>\n

Yet I felt undeterred.<\/p>\n

When Karl declined to join me due to family obligations, and while others voiced safety concerns, I embraced the solitude. Riding solo appealed to me, promising a sharpened sense of independence and clarity.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ride of a Lifetime<\/h3>\n

On Day 20 of my trip, I finally crossed the famed Arctic Circle at 66 degrees North latitude on the Dalton Highway.<\/p>\n

I was near the top of the earth on the Alaska tundra, riding alone in the quiet peace of the wilderness. The blue sky with bright white clouds reflecting sunlight at a low angle made me feel like I was in a different world.<\/p>\n

After a rest stop at an aptly-named camp called Coldfoot<\/em>, I pressed on and made it to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, feeling immense relief and gratitude that I had finally arrived at my final destination.<\/p>\n

Coming back down to civilization was another challenge.<\/p>\n

I was physically exhausted after nearly 21 days of riding nearly 6,000 miles, but I was determined to make it back safely to Fairbanks, Alaska, on my ride home to LA. The weather, however, had a different idea.<\/p>\n

On my way down the Dalton Highway, the sky turned ominous grey, and it started raining hard. The gravel road, which had been sprayed with calcium chloride to keep it from freezing, had become slick and slippery, creating a perfect condition for a wipe-out on the motorcycle. To make things even more difficult, the rain pelted my helmet visor, making the visibility almost impossible throughout the slippery highway.<\/p>\n

There was no place to pull over in such a remote, inhospitable place. I had to focus 100% of my mental energy to stay upright during this condition. Thankfully, I eventually made it back safely to Fairbanks and back home to my family in LA.<\/p>\n

Why Solo Matters<\/h3>\n

Traveling alone at any age is a unique experience. But later in life, it carries a deeper significance.<\/p>\n

When you ride solo, there\u2019s no one to defer to. No one to lean on when conditions get difficult. Every decision\u2014when to stop, when to push forward, how to respond to uncertainty\u2014is yours alone.<\/p>\n

That kind of responsibility can feel intimidating. But, it\u2019s also incredibly empowering.<\/p>\n

As we age, we often accumulate roles: parent, professional, caregiver, mentor. These roles are meaningful, but they can sometimes distance us from our own inner voice.<\/p>\n

On the road, that voice returns.<\/p>\n

You begin to listen more closely to yourself. You notice what energizes you, what drains you, what truly matters. You rediscover a sense of self that isn\u2019t defined by obligation, but by curiosity.<\/p>\n

The Physical Reality of Adventure<\/h3>\n

Let\u2019s just be completely honest. Adventure at 61 looks different from what it does at 31.<\/p>\n

Your body talks to you more. Long hours on a motorcycle are physically demanding. Fatigue sets in more quickly. Recovery takes longer.<\/p>\n

But during my thousands of miles on the road, I discovered that physical limitations don\u2019t have to be barriers. Instead, they can be honest guides.<\/p>\n

Instead of pushing recklessly, I learned to pace myself. To respect my body\u2019s signals. To prioritize rest and nutrition, and to prepare more thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

Aging well isn\u2019t about pretending you\u2019re still 25. It\u2019s about understanding your body and working with it, not against it.<\/p>\n

That mindset shift changes everything.<\/p>\n

Fear Doesn\u2019t Disappear, You Just Redefine It<\/h3>\n

Before the trip, people asked me if I was afraid.<\/p>\n

The answer is yes\u2014of course I was!<\/p>\n

Fear didn\u2019t vanish just because I was older or more experienced. If anything, I was more aware of the risks and consequences. I knew what could go wrong.<\/p>\n

But fear isn\u2019t the enemy. The real danger is letting fear make your decisions for you.\nOut on the Dalton Highway, with miles of gravel stretching ahead and no immediate help in sight, fear actually becomes something positive. It becomes awareness. Focus. Presence.<\/p>\n

I realized that you don\u2019t ignore that fear. You learn to move with it.<\/p>\n

And that was a powerful lesson for me. Not just for travel, but for my life.<\/p>\n

The Mental Reset We All Need<\/h3>\n

One of the greatest gifts of my solo adventure journey wasn\u2019t the destination, but the mental clarity that came with it.<\/p>\n

When you\u2019re riding for hours, sometimes days, through vast, untouched landscapes, something changes. The noise of daily life fades. The endless to-do lists, the cell phone notifications, the constant expectations.<\/p>\n

In their place, something quieter emerges: reflection.<\/p>\n

I found myself thinking not just about where I was going, but about where I had been. About the choices I had made. About what I still wanted to do with the years ahead.<\/p>\n

That kind of reflection is essential\u2014but we rarely give ourselves the space for it.<\/p>\n

Adventure creates that space.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s Not About Motorcycles<\/h3>\n

Not everyone reading this is going to ride 10,000 miles to the Arctic\u2014and that\u2019s perfectly fine.\nMy story isn\u2019t really about motorcycles.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s about permission.<\/p>\n

Permission to try something new.\nPermission to start later than expected.\nPermission to redefine what your life can look like. Right now.<\/p>\n

Maybe your version of \u201cshinnageh\u201d isn\u2019t a cross-continental ride. Maybe it\u2019s:<\/p>\n