Robinson Crusoe Island – Remote Islands: A Journey to the Edge of the World (That Almost Broke My Budget)
When “Remote” Actually Means Remote (And Your Wallet Feels It)
I’ll be completely honest – I almost didn’t go to Robinson Crusoe Island because of the sticker shock. I was deep in a Netflix documentary rabbit hole about remote islands when this place popped up, and my first thought wasn’t “wow, what an adventure!” It was “holy shit, people actually visit this place… and it costs HOW much?”
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The Juan Fernández Archipelago sits 670 kilometers off the Chilean coast, and Robinson Crusoe Island is about as far from civilization as you can get while still having WiFi (sort of). When I first started researching costs, I literally closed my laptop and walked away. We’re talking minimum $2,000 USD just to get there and back, not including accommodation or food. For a Canadian used to cheap domestic flights, this was a reality check.
But here’s the thing about remote places – they stay remote for a reason. After sleeping on it (and checking my savings account three times), I realized this might be one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Plus, as a photographer constantly chasing unique shots, the idea of capturing landscapes that 99.9% of people will never see in person was too tempting to pass up.
Self-correction moment: Actually, let me be more honest. I booked the trip during a particularly impulsive Sunday evening, immediately regretted it Monday morning, and spent the next two weeks trying to convince myself it was a good financial decision. Spoiler alert: it was, but not for the reasons I expected.
Getting There: The Journey That Tests Your Commitment (And Your Patience)
The Santiago Connection Maze
Booking flights to Robinson Crusoe Island is like trying to solve a puzzle where half the pieces are missing and the other half keep changing. I failed three times before figuring out the system, and each failure cost me hours of frustration and increasingly expensive flight options.
Money-saving tip that actually works: Book your international flight to Santiago separately from the domestic connection to the island. I learned this the hard way after LATAM’s website crashed on me twice during the booking process. When you try to book everything together, their system apparently has a nervous breakdown.
The domestic flights from Santiago to the island run only on specific days (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday as of October 2024), and they’re operated by small aircraft that can’t handle bad weather. I watched the weather forecast obsessively for two weeks before my trip, knowing that one storm could mess up my entire itinerary.
Here’s what nobody tells you: LATAM’s island service is essentially a monopoly, and they know it. The flights cost around $400 USD round-trip for what amounts to a 2.5-hour flight each way. For perspective, I can fly from Toronto to Vancouver for less than that, and that’s across an entire continent.
The Boat Alternative Nobody Talks About
During my research spiral, I discovered something that most travel websites don’t mention: there’s a monthly cargo ship that takes passengers. The Don Carlos runs supplies to the island and accepts up to 12 passengers for about 60% less than flying.
This discovery led to an internal debate that lasted three days. The boat takes 30 hours each way, runs only once a month, and is completely weather-dependent. But the cost savings were significant – around $160 USD each way versus $400 for flights. As someone who gets seasick watching boats on TV, this was a genuine dilemma.
I ultimately chose to fly out and boat back, which turned into one of the best decisions of the trip. The cargo ship experience gave me insights into island life that I never would have gotten otherwise. Plus, I met three locals who became my unofficial island guides.
Important reality check: The boat requires serious flexibility. Weather can delay departure by days, and there’s no WiFi or cell service for 30 hours. If you’re on a tight schedule or need constant connectivity, stick with flying.
Where to Stay: From Luxury Dreams to Budget Reality
The Accommodation Learning Curve
My first mistake was trying to book accommodation through Booking.com and Airbnb like I would anywhere else. Big error. Most of the island’s accommodation options aren’t listed on international booking sites, and the ones that are often have outdated availability or pricing.
Critical mistake avoidance: Don’t trust international booking platforms for Robinson Crusoe Island. I wasted two days trying to secure a reservation at what looked like a charming eco-lodge, only to discover it had been closed for renovations since 2023.
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The solution came through a Facebook group for Chilean island travel (yes, Facebook groups are still relevant for some things). A local woman named Carmen responded to my desperate post in broken Spanish-English and offered to help coordinate my stay. This led to my first cultural learning moment: island communication happens through personal networks, not corporate booking systems.
Ecolodge Cumberland vs. Local Family Stays
I ended up splitting my time between the Ecolodge Cumberland ($120 USD per night) and staying with a local family ($45 USD per night including meals). The contrast was eye-opening and honestly changed my perspective on what “luxury” means in remote places.
The ecolodge offered comfort that felt familiar – private bathroom, reliable hot water, and WiFi that worked most of the time. But staying with the Gonzalez family gave me something no hotel could: insight into actual island life. Dinner conversations about lobster fishing seasons, the challenges of getting medical care 670 kilometers from the mainland, and why young people leave the island taught me more about this place than any guidebook.
Environmental value realization: Both accommodation options actively support conservation efforts. The ecolodge funds endemic plant restoration projects, while family stays directly support the local economy. Your accommodation choice becomes a vote for how you want tourism to impact this fragile ecosystem.
The family stay also solved my food anxiety. I’m vegetarian, which I worried would be challenging on an island known for lobster and fish. Carmen’s grandmother turned out to be a wizard with vegetables and legumes, creating meals that made me forget I was missing anything.
What to Actually Do There (Beyond the Obvious Photo Ops)
Historical Sites: Separating Hype from Reality
Robinson Crusoe’s cave is probably the most overhyped attraction on the island. Let me save you some disappointment: it’s a small cave with a plaque, and the connection to Alexander Selkirk (the real-life inspiration for Robinson Crusoe) is tenuous at best. I spent 20 minutes there, took the obligatory photo, and felt like a tourist trap victim.
Cultural adjustment moment: This disappointment actually taught me something important about travel expectations. I was looking for a Disney-level experience with clear signage and dramatic storytelling. Instead, I found a quiet cave where a Scottish sailor might have sheltered 300+ years ago. The power was in the “might have” – the uncertainty and imagination required.
The Selkirk Lookout proved much more rewarding. It’s a 3-hour hike to where Alexander Selkirk supposedly watched for rescue ships, and the views are genuinely spectacular. More importantly, the hike gave me time to think about what four years of solitude on this island would actually mean. No Instagram, no Spotify, no next-day delivery – just survival and your own thoughts.
The Hiking Reality Nobody Warns You About
Trail conditions on Robinson Crusoe Island are… rustic. I’m used to Canadian hiking trails with markers every 100 meters and detailed maps. Here, “trail” sometimes means “general direction through native forest where other people have walked.”
Exclusive local discovery: Carmen’s cousin Luis showed me an unmarked viewpoint that doesn’t appear on any tourist map. It required scrambling up loose rocks for 45 minutes, but the panoramic view of the entire archipelago was worth every scraped knee. Luis mentioned that most tourists never see this spot because it’s not on the official trail maps.
My phone battery anxiety reached new heights during longer hikes. There’s no cell service in most areas, GPS drains battery quickly, and getting lost here isn’t just inconvenient – it could be dangerous. I learned to bring a portable charger and download offline maps, but also to embrace the digital disconnection.
Weather changes happen fast and dramatically. I started one hike in sunshine and ended it in sideways rain that came out of nowhere. The locals just shrugged and said “island weather” – apparently, this unpredictability is part of the charm.
Marine Life: The Real Treasure
Exclusive snorkeling discovery: The best snorkeling spots aren’t advertised anywhere. Local fisherman Roberto took me to a protected cove where Juan Fernández fur seals come to play. These seals exist nowhere else on Earth, and watching them underwater was like swimming in a private aquarium.
The water is cold – around 15°C (59°F) even in summer – so a wetsuit is essential. I tried tough-guy swimming in just board shorts for about three minutes before admitting defeat. Roberto laughed and said even locals wear wetsuits year-round.
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Underwater photography became a humbling experience. My usual camera gear wasn’t designed for cold water and curious seals. I ended up with mostly blurry photos but incredible memories of seals swimming circles around me like they were showing off.
Practical Survival Guide (The Details That Matter)
Money Reality Check
Robinson Crusoe Island operates on a cash-only economy, which was a shock to my contactless payment lifestyle. There’s no ATM on the island, and credit cards are accepted nowhere except the ecolodge (and even then, only sometimes when their internet works).
Critical money-saving tip: Bring Chilean pesos, not USD. I made the mistake of bringing US dollars thinking they’d be universally accepted. Wrong. The exchange rate offered by locals for USD was terrible, and some places wouldn’t take foreign currency at all.
Real-time update: As I’m writing this in October 2024, I just checked with my friend Sarah who visited last month. She confirmed that the cash situation hasn’t changed, and she actually had to borrow money from other tourists when she ran out of pesos mid-trip.
Budget breakdown for transparency:
– Flights (Santiago round-trip): $400 USD
– Accommodation (5 nights mixed): $385 USD
– Food and activities: $280 USD
– Emergency cash buffer: $150 USD
– Total: $1,215 USD (not including international flights to Santiago)
Communication and Digital Reality
Internet exists on Robinson Crusoe Island, but it’s not the internet you’re used to. Think dial-up speeds with random disconnections. Video calls are impossible, Instagram uploads take forever, and streaming anything is a fantasy.
This digital limitation turned into an unexpected gift. Without constant connectivity, I actually paid attention to conversations, noticed small details, and felt more present than I had in months. My usual travel anxiety about posting real-time updates disappeared when posting became impossible.
Emergency communication tip: The island has one landline phone service that works reliably. Get the number from your accommodation and share it with family back home for true emergencies.
Food and Supply Logistics
The island has two small grocery stores with limited selection and high prices (everything is shipped from the mainland). Fresh produce arrives weekly, weather permitting. I learned to shop immediately after supply boats arrived and to be flexible about meal plans.
Lobster season timing (October to May) determines much of the island’s economy and food culture. During my April visit, lobster was everywhere and relatively affordable. Outside lobster season, protein options become more limited and expensive.
For dietary restrictions, communication is key. I wrote out my vegetarian requirements in Spanish and showed it to everyone. This led to some creative interpretations (fish apparently doesn’t count as meat for some locals), but people genuinely tried to accommodate my needs.
The Environmental Reality (And Why It Actually Matters)
Conservation You Can Actively Support
Your visit to Robinson Crusoe Island directly funds conservation efforts, but not all tourism dollars are created equal. The island struggles with invasive species, particularly blackberry bushes and European rabbits that threaten endemic plants.
Sustainable tourism action: I participated in a morning blackberry removal session organized by the local conservation group. It wasn’t glamorous work, but pulling invasive plants while learning about endemic species from a local botanist felt more meaningful than any organized tour.
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The Juan Fernández firecrown hummingbird exists nowhere else on Earth and is critically endangered. Seeing one requires patience and luck, but supporting the habitat restoration projects increases their survival chances.
Climate Impact Honesty
Let’s address the elephant in the room: flying to one of the world’s most remote islands isn’t environmentally friendly. My round-trip flights generated approximately 2.5 tons of CO2, which is significant.
I offset this through a Chilean reforestation project, but I also had to honestly ask myself: was this trip necessary? The answer became yes, but not for the reasons I expected. Experiencing true remoteness and seeing conservation efforts firsthand changed my perspective on travel priorities and environmental responsibility.
Local environmental project: The island runs a plastic-free initiative where visitors can participate in beach cleanups and plastic reduction education. I spent one morning collecting microplastics from remote beaches – tedious work that highlighted how ocean pollution reaches even the most isolated places.
Final Thoughts: Was the Financial Pain Worth It?
Sitting in the Santiago airport on my way home, exhausted and significantly poorer, I did the math one more time. $1,215 USD plus international flights for five days on a remote island – was it worth it?
The honest answer: yes, but not for Instagram bragging rights or checking off a bucket list item. It was worth it for the perspective shift. Living for five days in a place where Amazon Prime doesn’t exist, where weather determines your schedule, and where community actually means something reminded me what “essential” really looks like.
Unexpected personal growth: I learned I could survive (and even enjoy) being disconnected from constant digital stimulation. Conversations became deeper when we couldn’t fact-check everything on Google. Meals became more important when they required planning and preparation.
The cost per experience ratio actually worked out better than many cheaper trips. Every day brought genuine discoveries – from learning traditional fishing techniques to understanding how climate change affects small island communities. Compare that to a typical beach vacation where day three feels identical to day one.
Honest recommendation criteria: Visit Robinson Crusoe Island if you want to challenge your assumptions about necessity and convenience. Don’t visit if you need constant connectivity, predictable schedules, or familiar food options. This isn’t a relaxing vacation – it’s an education in different ways of living.
Would I go back? Absolutely, but probably not for another five years. The island changes you in ways that need time to process. Plus, my bank account needs time to recover.
Cultural perspective shift: The biggest takeaway wasn’t about the island itself, but about questioning what I actually need versus what I think I need. Carmen’s family lives comfortably with less stuff than I have in my Toronto apartment, yet they seemed more content and connected than most people I know back home.
The financial investment forced me to be present and engaged in ways that cheaper trips don’t require. When every day costs $200+, you don’t waste time scrolling social media – you make every experience count.
Robinson Crusoe Island won’t be for everyone, and it definitely won’t be affordable for everyone. But if you can swing it financially and emotionally, it offers something increasingly rare in our connected world: genuine remoteness and the perspective that comes with it.
About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.
