Why Are Some Individuals Choosing to Be Left Alone on a Desert Island?

Gary Beeck’s island was a picture-perfect tropical paradise, complete with swaying palms, crystal-clear waters, and a sandy beach that melted into the jungle. However, as the retiree from Perth, Australia, approached the uninhabited isle off the coast of Sumatra in May, a wave of anxiety washed over him. Later that day, the boat and crew would depart, leaving Beeck to fend for himself in solitude.

“As I looked at it, I thought: ‘What have I gotten myself into?’” Beeck recalls. “Is this really what I want?” Despite his doubts, he was ready for the challenge. He had arranged a ‘castaway’ experience through the travel company Docastaway, intending to survive for 12 days with only basic supplies, living off wild coconuts and anything he could catch or gather. On the ride to the boat launch, a local guide had offered him a last chance to grab some provisions—juicy mangoes and sweet bananas—but he declined. In hindsight, when it was too late to reconsider, Beeck regretted not taking the mangoes.

At 67, Beeck is no stranger to adventure. He has traversed the Himalayas on a motorbike and navigated his own sailboat through the Mediterranean, South China Sea, and Malacca Straits. His eyes often wandered to the lonely islets along his journey. “I’ve always dreamt of steering my boat onto a deserted island and testing my survival skills,” he admits. Docastaway presented a practical version of that dream: a simplified castaway experience, with the reassurance of being able to call for help if things went awry.

Docastaway emerged in 2010 as the pioneering company dedicated to sending adventurers to survive on desert islands. Since its inception, the castaway trend has flourished. In 2013, No Limit Journeys introduced survival-based island excursions, claiming to offer the toughest and most authentic experiences available, with locations in Tonga, the Solomon Islands, Fiji, and Chile. Founded in 2016 by Tom Williams, who triumphed over ten other contestants in the inaugural season of Alone UK, the U.K.-based Desert Island Survival offers bushcraft classes and expeditions to the Philippines, Tonga, Indonesia, and Panama. In 2018, another British venture, Untold Story Travel, emerged, merging survival training with individual challenges where travelers test their endurance and fishing skills.

Mark Allvey, cofounder of Untold Story Travel, notes via email that there is a growing demand for solo stays and couples seeking complete isolation without any human interaction. In 2017, luxury travel company Black Tomato launched its “Get Lost” service, which places travelers in secluded areas, from polar tundras to jungles, where they depend on their navigation and survival abilities while a support team monitors from Mytour. “It’s all about achieving a deep state of disconnection,” says Carolyn Addison, the company’s head of product. “We’ve certainly seen a surge of interest in that.” Many travelers appear to be yearning for profound solitude in some of the most isolated corners of the earth.

This desire for isolation sparked the vision of Docastaway founder Álvaro Cerezo. At 43, the Spaniard boasts a sun-kissed complexion, a rich mahogany hue that reflects a life spent largely outdoors rather than the temporary tan of a holidaymaker. Growing up on the bustling Málaga coast, Cerezo would often escape home at the age of eight, paddling a kayak or inflatable boat along the shoreline until he discovered a secluded spot just for himself.

“I’m someone who seeks out loneliness,” he reveals. “I used to explore remote coves, devoid of people, to enjoy solitude. The experience of being alone was incredibly intense and something I truly cherished. It was wonderful to feel like no one else was around.” Despite the strong pull of solitude, it could often be just out of reach. In the remaining fragments of coastal wilderness in Málaga, the sound of a distant plane or the flickering of offshore lights could easily shatter the illusion of being alone. In a world where the population surged from 1960 to 1999—the year Cerezo turned 18—how much solitude can one realistically find?

Historically, the allure of spaciousness has lured travelers to desert islands—places defined not by arid landscapes but by their sparse populations. (The Latin word desertus translates to “uninhabited.”) Genomic studies indicate that Polynesia was settled over centuries by Austronesian voyagers, who traversed thousands of oceanic miles in double-hulled canoes in search of unspoiled land. More contemporary explorers have captured public attention. In 1952, 50-year-old New Zealander Tom Neale relocated from Rarotonga to a mile-long islet in Suwarrow Atoll, living about 200 miles from the nearest neighbor for a total of 16 years. His memoir, An Island to Oneself, has become a cult classic. In her 1983 narrative, Castaway, British author Lucy Irvine recounts her year on the Torres Strait island of Tuin after responding to a newspaper ad that read: “Writer seeks ‘wife’ for year on tropical island.”

At 19, Cerezo set out to discover his own desert island. During a break from university, he journeyed to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands in the Bay of Bengal. Of the 836 widely dispersed islands and rocks, only 31 are permanently inhabited. This region is also home to the Sentinelese, regarded by the nonprofit Survival International as the most isolated tribe globally. They reside on a square-shaped, forested island about the size of Manhattan, known for welcoming outsiders with iron-tipped arrows.

For a solitude seeker like Cerezo, this geography was irresistible. He searched online for a company that could take him to one of its more secluded spots, but found none. “I wanted to be a castaway, and there was no option,” Cerezo explains. “So, I decided to do it myself.” Although the two islands he explored weren’t completely deserted—fishermen would occasionally visit, and he was near a village—the month he spent in the Andamans was life-changing. He spent sun-soaked days fishing and feasting on coconuts, trading his excess catch with locals. “It was stunning. I have unforgettable memories,” he recalls.

From that moment on, he visited a new island each holiday, delving into increasingly remote regions in Indonesia, Africa, and the Caribbean. Although he was pursuing a master’s degree in economics, the prospect of an office job was becoming less appealing. Instead, Cerezo aimed to build a life around his talent for discovering islands.

In 2008, Cerezo began conducting trial runs for the company he aspired to create. He sent friends to islands he had found during his explorations, though it didn’t always go as planned: fishermen would appear frequently, and in one instance, day-tripping tourists disrupted his peace. Cerezo adapted by seeking out new locations and establishing connections with local contacts. Traveling between islands with just a backpack, laptop, and camera, Cerezo launched the Docastaway website in 2009, but it wasn’t until October 2010 that he secured his first paying customer for the fledgling company. Since then, he has facilitated over 1,000 people in experiencing their own desert islands across Asia, the Caribbean, and Oceania. Indonesia, being both extensive and easily accessible, has become the most popular destination.

Not all participants are hardcore survivalists. Docastaway offers trips in “comfort mode” priced between $103 and $210 USD per night, which include a private villa, kitchen, and provided meals. Even those opting for “survival mode” ($98–414 USD/night) can ease some discomfort by requesting extra supplies like bottled water and snacks. While some castaways come equipped with survival skills, Cerezo advises against it. “I recommend they go without any training, because this is the authentic castaway experience,” he explains. Travelers only discover the specific location of “their” islands after placing a deposit and must sign a waiver acknowledging the various risks that desert islands entail, such as falling coconuts and unpredictable waves. To minimize these dangers, everyone is given an “emergency button” to reach out for help from Docastaway staff, usually their only link to the outside world—often the only link.

“I felt the need to break free from the societal norms,” recalls Urara Takaseki, who was just 20 in 2018 when she embarked on a seven-day survival-mode Docastaway adventure on an Indonesian island. “It was a feeling of ‘I just want to leave everything behind.’”

Currently, Takaseki is pursuing her PhD at the University of Tokyo and serves as the CEO of the femtech startup Omotete. Prior to her journey, she was a busy undergraduate juggling multiple jobs and feeling overwhelmed. Having spent part of her childhood in Maryland, she had a fondness for camping and had taken some bushcraft classes. She often watched YouTube videos of survivalists in remote areas and dreamed of experiencing it herself.

During her initial days on the island, she foraged for food and fished. Eventually, she decided to rely solely on coconuts for sustenance. No cooking fires; no fishing chores. “You find yourself thinking, ‘Hmm, what’s on my agenda?’” Takaseki reflects. “I have nothing to occupy my time. Just the serenity... almost like meditating.” Upon returning to Tokyo, she felt empowered to live differently. She chose to work less and concentrate on what truly mattered to her. “My perspective on work and lifestyle shifted significantly,” she states.

There is no official record of uninhabited islands globally. If there were, the list would be extensive. Norway and Sweden alone boast hundreds of thousands of desert islands, some of which are remarkably isolated. For instance, Bouvetøya, a glacier-covered island in Norway, lies over 1,000 miles from the nearest land. Desert islands evoke isolation so effectively that they have become our primary metaphor for it. We have desert island books, desert island discs, and desert island foods. The New Yorker Cartoon Bank features nearly 400 entries for “desert island,” possibly because an artist can easily depict a scene that’s both instantly recognizable and entirely self-contained with just a few strokes—a horizontal line of sand and a couple of palm trees.

The reality is more nuanced; arriving at an “untouched” island involves considerable preparation. Plastic waste makes its way to even the most remote shores, prompting the Docastaway team to clean the islands before each visitor's arrival, collecting discarded fishing gear, water bottles, and other debris that the tide brings in. In just a few weeks, the beaches can become cluttered with newly washed-up litter. When Cerezo obtains permission, either from government or private landowners, to rent an island for Docastaway clients, he is extremely protective of its whereabouts, cautious of outsiders, and advises previous guests against sharing identifiable information online.

The relentless advance of boats, development, and plantations continues to encroach upon small islands, making them particularly susceptible to climate change, facing intensified storms and rising sea levels. Disconnecting from the modern world has also become more challenging. Since the company's inception, Cerezo has witnessed the spread of cell coverage throughout the world's archipelagos. A contemporary Robinson Crusoe could survive on coconuts while binge-watching previous seasons of Naked and Afraid.

However, many of the challenges and pleasures found on desert islands remain refreshingly resistant to technology. In his recent book, De l'île déserte à la mer de sable (From the Desert Island to the Sea of Sand), retired entrepreneur Gauthier Toulemonde shares his account of a 40-day solo stay on an Indonesian island arranged by Cerezo in 2013. Unable to miss work, he brought along a laptop, solar panels, and a satellite connection. He also borrowed a dog named Gecko and three cats for companionship and to help deter the island's resident rats. Even with internet access and borrowed pets, the isolation was palpable. He immersed himself in nature and relished the quiet moments between rain showers.

“Every day felt like the first morning of the world,” reflects Toulemonde, 65, who resides near Lille, France. “You feel more empowered,” he states. “You discover so much about yourself, learning to embrace solitude—if a problem arises, you must solve it on your own. There’s no one to assist you.”

Throughout Gary Beeck's time off Sumatra, he faced extreme heat during the day and nighttime storms that left him shivering. The rain soaked the wood, making it challenging to start a fire. Although he managed to boil some hermit crabs and catch a few fish, by the end of the week, hunger pangs hit him hard. He found himself obsessively dreaming about nasi goreng and a delightful Swedish treat known as princess cake. “It’s filled with marzipan, custard, and jam—it’s the best cake ever,” he recalls.

Yet, he also found the experience exhilarating. Like Takaseki and Toulemonde, he cherished the long, unmeasured moments of time. Each day began with him waking up, brushing his teeth, and strolling around the island, a journey that took just an hour. After quenching his thirst with a coconut, he had the entire day before him. There was limited activity to engage in. He searched the beach for treasures washed ashore, observed a distant volcano releasing puffs of smoke and ash, and relocated sea turtle eggs, pondering their hatching time. With darkness falling early in the tropics, he would lie awake in his hammock for hours before drifting off to sleep.

“Your thoughts inevitably drift towards what truly matters—your family and friends,” Beeck reflects. It reminds him of those survival-themed reality shows where contestants begin with bravado, only to break down in tears after a few days, missing their loved ones. “I used to think they were weak, just weak—but it’s undeniably true,” he admits. “You end up contemplating your life and how to improve it.”

The journey transformed him. Upon returning home, Beeck felt more serene, less judgmental, a better listener, and more introspective. “I had so much time to sit and reflect, and I cherished it. So why can't I carry a piece of that back with me?” he muses. When friends inquire about his adventure, he simply encourages them to try it for themselves.

In fact, Beeck is contemplating another adventure. The daily grind of life at home has its own magnetic pull, and he feels how easily those desert island revelations could fade away. Each of us has a limited time to wander; Beeck is aware that he’s not getting any younger. “I’m probably hoping Álvaro can find me another island somewhere,” he remarks.