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What’s inside this issue
Why the “queer beach circuit” has become the villain of LGBTQ+ travel
My take on why places like Mykonos, Sitges, and Gran Canaria feel copy-paste
What you actually gain by breaking free (spoiler alert: better stories!)
Three alternatives that balance queer-friendly vibes with adventure and authenticity
A simple 4-night escape formula you can steal
My Favourite Finds
ITB Berlin’s podcast about the evolving expectations of LGBTQ+ travellers.
How to travel ethically as a queer person - the pink pound is powerful
Daniel Craig spotted snogging another man in a bar
50 pics from adult LGBTQ summer camp. Just fabulous!
Main Feature
Why the ‘Gay Beach Circuit’ Isn’t Enough
You’ve heard it before: You have to go to Mykonos. Sitges is the place. Gran Canaria will change your life.
Here’s the truth: they’re fun in short bursts, but they’ve become a monolith. Swap the backdrop and you could be anywhere.
The same bars, the same Kylie vs ABBA playlists, the same… samey vibe
For some of us, that predictability is fine. But if you want adventure, richer memories, and stories that don’t sound identical to the last trip your mate took, then the “queer beach circuit” is not your hero. It’s the villain.
How They Became Icons
I need to give credit where it’s due. These destinations were (and in some cases, still are) lifelines. Safe, visible, unapologetically queer. Whole streets where you could hold hands without flinching. For older generations especially, that was gold dust.
They still serve a purpose: if you want wall-to-wall parties and sun, you’ll get exactly that.
But fast-forward to today, and the script is the same: land, drop your bags, rotate between the same handful of beaches, bars, and clubs, then head home with a tan/sunburn and a hangover.
Comforting, yes. Memorable? Not so much.
Sameness in a Speedo
It isn’t Sitges or Mykonos or Gran Canaria that are the problem. Each has beautiful corners, cultural gems, and quieter sides.
The villain is the way they’re sold: one-dimensional, party-fuelled, wallet-emptying.
It’s the idea that queer travel equals one thing: tanning by day, clubs by night. As if that’s the only story we’re allowed to tell.
Who They Suit (and Who They Don’t)
To be fair, sometimes what you need is a plug-and-play holiday where every bar serves massive spirit measures and the staff are hot. These spots deliver.
But for couples, small groups, and travellers who crave something deeper, a hike with ocean views, a night in a local taverna, or a conversation with people who aren’t just passing through, in my opinion they fall short.
What You’re Missing Out On
Here’s what you gain by breaking free of the circuit:
Stories that stick: Instead of “we went to the bar again,” you’ll come home saying, “we hiked through volcanic valleys then ended up drinking wine with a local winemaker.”
New types of people: Queer-friendly doesn’t have to mean insular. In alternative spots you’ll meet fellow travellers, locals, and communities who open doors beyond your usual circle.
More for your money: Mykonos champagne buckets at €200 a pop? Or a week in Crete where you get beaches, hikes, and meals that don’t drain your account.
Status without bragging: Saying you went to Sitges raises zero eyebrows. Saying you did wild swimming in Asturias or explored Madeira? People lean in.
A brief interlude … Want to know where it all started?
The Alternatives Worth Your Time
Swap Mykonos for Naxos or Crete: Beaches, mountains, authentic villages. You still get nightlife, but you’ll actually want to explore by day.
Swap Sitges for Cantabria or Asturias: Northern Spain gives you rugged coastlines, world-class food, and a welcome that isn’t just for tourists.
Swap Gran Canaria for Madeira or the Azores: Dramatic volcanic scenery, hikes through lush valleys, wild swimming, and enough queer-friendly spaces to feel comfortable without the neon overload.
The Formula for a 4-Night Escape
You don’t need a full fortnight to get the payoff. Here’s a high-level formula you can steal for a 4-night city-and-nature break — the kind I design for Outbound Adventures readers:
Night 1: Land in a queer-friendly city (e.g. Bilbao). Drop your bags, explore the old town, have your first queer night out.
Day 2: Take a hike or scenic drive to dramatic coastlines, mountain trails, or volcanic ridges depending on where you are.
Day 3: Balance culture + chill: museums, art galleries, or a vineyard visit, followed by wild swimming or a thermal spa. Evening: find a couple of queer bars, keep it low-key.
Day 4: Choose-your-own ending: another adventure day, or just let yourself linger in a café watching the world go by.
Day 5: Fly home with actual memories, not déjà vu.
I want you to feel that buzz after a trip, not just “we did what everyone does,” but “we stumbled into a mountain festival,” or “we found a queer-friendly guesthouse where the owner poured us homemade wine.”
Those moments change you. They remind you why travel matters.
And honestly? They make you want to do more of it.
The Bottom Line
If you want the beach circuit, go. Have fun, no shade queens, but don’t stop there. Because queer travel is bigger, richer, and more exciting than the same handful of party hotspots.
That’s why Outbound Adventures exists: to help you cut through the noise, and build trips that give you more stories, more freedom, and more of that post-trip glow that makes you immediately start planning the next one.
Outro
That’s a wrap on this week’s issue. If you’ve ever tried to DIY a trip and ended up overwhelmed by tabs, or second-guessing what’s actually safe, that’s exactly what I help with.
Like this issue? Forward it to a travel-loving friend. Or better yet, let me help plan your next one.
I’m Steve, your LGBTQ+ adventure curator. If you’re tired of rainbow-washed travel tips, rigid group tours, or just wondering where to go, you’re in the right place.