My name is Tom, and I write a travel blog called Silver Queer Travel Light. I’m now in my forth year of blogging, and I live permanently in Norway. I try to publish one post each week. I rarely write while I’m actually travelling – for me, distance helps. Thoughts need time to settle. While I’m on the road, I usually just take photos, some of which I share on Facebook. The writing comes later, when the journey has had time to echo.
I started this blog towards the end of the pandemic. Because of that, many of the early stories were written some time after the trips themselves. At the time, travel felt fragile – something we had almost lost. Perhaps that’s why it felt important to return to places I had already been, and look at them again, slowly, through memory.
Travelling has always been a deep passion of mine. Even though I still work full-time, I try to visit five or six new countries every year. I live a comfortable and largely hassle-free life, and I’m grateful for that. But sometimes, I need a little friction. I need to be reminded that there are many ways to live a life – ways that don’t resemble my own at all. Travel gives me that. It unsettles me just enough. And when I return home, everyday life feels richer, more generous.
The name Silver Queer Travel Light reflects who I am and how I move through the world. “Silver Queer” probably explains itself. I’m gay, yes – but I don’t see myself as a typical gay traveller. In recent years, several of my trips have taken me to countries where being openly gay is complicated or even dangerous. Still, I’ve met people of extraordinary warmth and courage – people living under pressure, negotiating silence and visibility every day, yet determined to carve out a meaningful life. Those encounters stay with me long after I’ve left.
“Travel Light” is both practical and philosophical. I usually travel with hand luggage only – a small backpack that fits in the cabin. It makes journeys simpler, lighter, and more environmentally considerate. It also forces a kind of restraint: there’s no room for excess things, no space for shopping for the sake of it. I don’t mind walking, even long distances from station to hotel. With a backpack, walking feels natural. It slows me down, brings me closer to the place I’m visiting, and reminds me that travel doesn’t have to be complicated to be meaningful.
At the heart of this blog is a simple hope: to encourage you to consider travelling independently. It’s not as frightening as some imagine. For me, it has been genuinely life‑changing. Solo travel can be challenging at times, yes, but it builds confidence and creates a quiet, lasting sense of strength. Travelling on your own also brings a particular kind of freedom – the freedom to follow your own rhythm, to change plans, to be spontaneous.
I began travelling in my early twenties, mostly in Europe and North America. Later, a long‑term relationship and the realities of self‑employment meant that discovering new places slipped down the list of priorities. There was nothing dramatic about it – just life taking up space. When I became single again, I realised that the world was still there, patiently waiting.
For nearly thirty years, I had looked for someone to join me on a hike to Uhuru Peak on Mount Kilimanjaro. There was always a reason to postpone it, always a “later.” At 55, I decided not to wait any longer. I booked the climb with an agency and went. Reaching the summit at New Year 2019 became one of the most powerful experiences of my life – not because I stood there by myself, but because I finally understood that waiting for the right companion had kept me from my own path.
I’ve learned that the more you pay, the further away you often move from everyday life. That’s why I rarely seek out the most expensive restaurants or hotels. I’m far more interested in local food, small traditions, and the ordinary rhythms of a place. The UNESCO World Heritage list is often a useful starting point when I plan a journey – not as a checklist, but as a way to understand what matters to a country, and why.
Not all my travels are solitary. I also write about journeys made with tour operators, especially when it comes to longer hikes where company is practical, or when local guides are required. Sharing the road, at times, adds something different – a quiet sense of community, even among strangers.
I love classical music and work in the theatre, so culture naturally finds its way into my travels. Concert halls, opera houses, local performances – they often become as memorable to me as landscapes or buildings. Art has its own geography.
If this blog can inspire you to travel more openly, more lightly, or simply with a little more curiosity, then it has done what I hoped for.
