Issue #29: Gay Adventure Doesn’t Need to be Extreme

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Three great blogs that shaped this week’s newsletter:

Let’s start with the premise: “adventure” gets a bit overhyped. Somewhere along the way, travel started sounding like a competition, such as who’s been the most off-grid, eaten the weirdest food, or done a week in the wilderness surviving on manky lentils.

But here’s the thing: your gay adventure doesn’t need to be extreme. It just needs to mean something to you, right?

Adventure isn’t about dangling from a cliff face or trekking barefoot through the Andes (unless that’s your thang). It’s about doing something that stretches you emotionally, physically without losing sight of joy or safety.…

It might mean hiking in Iceland or camping in the Scottish Highlands. For others, it’s renting a little car in Spain and exploring tiny towns where you can’t pronounce the street names.

And for plenty of us, it’s as simple as ditching the itinerary, following our curiosity, and seeing where the day takes us.

A group of queer hikers featured in REI’s LGBTQ+ Adventurers, In Their Own Words said it best: “Sometimes the bravest thing you can do outdoors is show up as yourself.”

That’s adventure in its purest form; claiming space, being visible, and finding peace in (some) places not built with us in mind.

Therefore, adventure isn’t about danger, it’s about presence.

It seems that unless you’ve gone completely feral eating baked beans beside a campfire in the middle of nowhere, you’re not really an adventurer. But that’s nonsense.

You can get that same spark from a Sunday hike in the British Peak District, a kayak trip down a calm river, or a train ride to a new part of Portugal where you eat lunch with locals who barely speak English.

Adventure lives in the moments where things don’t go quite to plan; a missed train, a wrong turn, a meal that surprises you in the best way (like me eating a handful of the “best snails in the world”).

You don’t need to risk heatstroke or bouts of the shits to feel something real.

Now, this is where I’ll ruffle a few feathers. Rigid group tours have their place; they’re safe, structured, sociable. You’ll meet people, you’ll see the highlights, and you won’t have to think too hard.

But here’s the catch: when everything’s planned for you, the adventure’s been ironed out. You’re following someone else’s rhythm, someone else’s idea of what’s worth seeing.

And for queer travellers, that’s a double-edged sword. Yes, it’s comfortable being surrounded by community, but if you never step outside that bubble, you miss the moments that make travel truly connective.

In my opinion, it’s not about rejecting comfort, it’s choosing curiosity over control.

That’s why flexible travel such as building your own escape with a little structure but plenty of free time hits the sweet spot. You’ve got safety, confidence, and the freedom to wander.

That’s where the real stories come from, as opposed to bar hopping in matching speedos and Hawaiian shirts.

The best queer adventures often share one thing: they’re full of little surprises.

Maybe it’s chatting with a local in a sleepy village who proudly tells you they have a small Pride parade every summer (cue Lugo). Or it’s a spontaneous swim in a freezing lake because the water looked too good to resist.

Or it’s that quiet evening with your partner in a mountain cabin where the only sound is the crackle of a fire.

Those are the stories people come home with, the ones that make their eyes light up. It’s then that you realise you didn’t need a group leader, a checklist, or anyone’s permission. You just needed to go and do you.

Sometimes, though, adventure falls flat. It happens to all of us.

Maybe the logistics are too much. You spend so long researching routes, safety, and local attitudes that you feel paralysed. Decision fatigue kicks in, and before you know it, you’ve booked another cruise or city break “because it’s easy.”

If you push too far into remote regions without support, it can start feeling like the snot nose scene from Blair Witch.

Sometimes adventure doesn’t work because it doesn’t fit your now. You might crave comfort, community, or simply less planning. That’s fine.

Don’t conclude you’re not adventurous or that you can only travel through hyper-curated gay tours.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why people stick to the familiar. Cruises, resort weeks, and big-city gayborhoods offer community, ease, and predictability. You can hold hands, dance, and exist without side-eye. That matters.

But if every trip is a copy of the last; the same clubs, same faces, same beaches, you start recycling memories. You don’t grow.

And sometimes, those bubbles hide the country you flew to experience. You end up in “international gay space” instead of actually travelling.

The team behind Outside The Square Adventures put it bluntly: “If all you ever do is the same circuit of parties and parades, you’ll collect souvenirs, not stories.”

If we want deeper, more joyful queer travel, we’ve got to blend safety with exploration, city with countryside, comfort with spontaneity.

So, where does that leave you?

Queer adventure isn’t a destination. It’s a practice of travelling with curiosity intact.

For me, it’s about asking: What would feel slightly uncomfortable, but still safe enough to try? That’s where the stretch is. That’s where the growth lives.

Adventure might be a weekend hiking trip in Wales. It might be a spontaneous road trip through Switzerland. It might even be saying yes to travelling with a partner again after a few misaligned trips.

The best part? You get to decide.

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.

I help queer couples and small groups build flexible, meaningful adventures without the group tour vibe or the planning overwhelm.

Click below to book a quick chat with me, and we’ll start sketching your ideal trip into something that actually fits you, not a cookie-cutter package.

Book your planning call here

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.

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