10 Islands Around the World With No Internet, No Tourists and a Waitlist to Move There
The dream is simple. A quiet island, no crowds, no constant notifications, and a life that moves at the pace of the tide.
But on some of the world’s most isolated islands, that dream is colliding with a very real problem: too many people want in, and there is only so much land, housing and ferry space to go around.
Fair Isle, Scotland
Fair Isle sits between Orkney and Shetland and is one of Britain’s most isolated inhabited islands. Fewer than 70 people live there year-round, according to local community figures, and access depends on weather-sensitive flights and ferry sailings. Mobile coverage is limited and internet service has historically been patchy, even though public investments have improved basic connections in recent years.
Tourism exists, but it is small by design. Most visitors come for birdwatching, knitting heritage and the dramatic cliffs, and accommodation is limited. That means the island stays quiet for much of the year, especially outside migration season.
Moving there is not as simple as showing up with boxes and a plan. Housing is tightly controlled, jobs are few, and community-run systems often determine who can realistically settle. In practice, that creates an informal waiting list made up of people watching for rare openings in homes, croft tenancies and essential jobs.
Foula, Scotland
Foula, west of mainland Shetland, is one of the United Kingdom’s most remote permanently inhabited islands. Its population is tiny, often estimated at around 30 people, and daily life depends on a small ferry and occasional air service. Like many outer islands, digital service can be weak or inconsistent, and residents still plan around weather and transport more than around screens.
The island is known for sea cliffs, sheep farming and Norse place names, not large visitor numbers. There are no crowds, no cruise terminals and no resort strip. For Americans used to always-on access, Foula represents almost the opposite model of daily life.
Yet that quiet comes with barriers. Homes rarely come up for sale, jobs are specialized, and the local economy is narrow. Anyone hoping to move in usually needs both a practical role and local backing, which creates a slow-moving queue of interested outsiders waiting for the right chance.
North Ronaldsay, Orkney
North Ronaldsay lies at the northern edge of Orkney and is famous for its seaweed-eating sheep and long stone wall that circles the island. Its population is generally under 100, and ferry and air links are limited enough that simple errands can take days of planning. Internet and mobile access have improved over time, but service is still a far cry from big-city standards.
Visitor numbers remain low because getting there is part of the challenge. Harsh weather, limited beds and the island’s small scale naturally cap tourism. That has helped preserve a strong local culture and a landscape shaped by farming and conservation.
For potential new residents, the biggest issue is supply. Housing stock is scarce, restoration costs are high, and many properties stay in families for generations. Community leaders in remote Scottish islands have repeatedly said they want more working-age residents, but only where homes, transport and jobs can support them, effectively creating a first-come, first-waited process.
Tristan da Cunha, South Atlantic
Tristan da Cunha is often described by officials as the world’s most remote inhabited archipelago. The British Overseas Territory sits in the South Atlantic, with no airport and access only by sea from South Africa on a handful of annual sailings. Its population is roughly 230, and internet access exists but remains limited, expensive and far from seamless.
Tourism is minimal because reaching the island is difficult and capacity is tightly restricted. A small number of expedition ships and approved visitors arrive each year, but there is nothing like mass tourism. The settlement functions more as a self-contained community than as a destination built for outsiders.
Moving there is famously hard. The local administration has long enforced strict residency rules, and outsiders generally cannot simply buy property and relocate. In practical terms, aspiring newcomers face a long, uncertain process involving official approval, available work and housing constraints, making the idea of a waitlist more reality than metaphor.
Pitcairn Island, Pacific Ocean
Pitcairn Island, a British Overseas Territory in the Pacific, has one of the smallest populations on Earth, hovering around 50 residents in recent years. There is no airport, and arrivals usually come by ship via French Polynesia. Internet access exists in limited form, but the island’s remoteness still defines daily life far more than any digital connection.
Unlike some remote islands, Pitcairn has actively tried to attract settlers in order to stabilize its population and economy. Officials have promoted migration schemes and long-term residency opportunities, especially for people willing to adapt to isolation and limited services. Even so, practical barriers remain steep.
The island has little tourism infrastructure and only a small number of guest options. Health care, schooling, supply shipments and employment all work on a tiny scale. For those interested in moving, the process is formal and slow, and available homes and support systems are so limited that any approved pathway effectively works like a waiting list.
Flatey, Iceland
Flatey, in Iceland’s Breidafjordur Bay, is a seasonal anomaly. In summer, ferries bring visitors to brightly painted houses and bird-filled shores, but through winter the island’s permanent population drops to just a handful of people or, in some years, none at all. Internet and mobile service are limited by the island’s size and seasonal rhythm rather than total absence of technology.
What makes Flatey unusual is not mass demand but carefully constrained access. Development is tightly limited, many houses are second homes or protected properties, and the island’s historic character shapes what can be built or changed. That keeps visitor pressure low and prevents rapid expansion.
For anyone wanting to live there full time, the challenge is obvious. There are very few homes, little year-round employment and sparse services during the off-season. In effect, interested buyers and would-be residents wait for rare property opportunities, often competing for homes that may not hit the market for years.
Inishbofin, Ireland
Inishbofin, off County Galway, is better connected than some islands on this list, but it still offers a life with limited digital dependence compared with most of Europe or the United States. The island has a population of roughly 170, and while mobile and broadband service exist, weather, ferry schedules and local routines still shape daily life in a very direct way.
Tourism does arrive in summer, mostly walkers, cyclists and traditional music fans, but the island remains far from overrun. Outside peak months, it is a small Atlantic community where school enrollment, health access and housing matter more than visitor trends.
That is where the pressure point is. Rural Irish islands have struggled for years with low housing supply, second-home ownership and the high cost of renovation. Inishbofin has attracted strong interest from people seeking remote work and simpler living, but limited housing means many would-be movers spend long periods waiting for a realistic opening.
Saba, Caribbean Netherlands
Saba, a special municipality of the Netherlands in the Caribbean, has a population of about 2,000 and is better known to divers than to mainstream travelers. It does have modern infrastructure, but its steep terrain, small road network and modest housing supply make it feel much more contained than larger Caribbean destinations. Internet is available, yet life is still shaped by the island’s physical isolation and close community.
Tourist numbers are low compared with neighboring islands because Saba has no big beaches, no all-inclusive resort corridor and limited hotel capacity. Visitors come for hiking, marine life and the island’s small-town character. That has helped protect both the environment and the pace of local life.
For newcomers, however, housing is a major issue. Officials and local residents have raised concerns about affordability, inventory and pressure from outside buyers. Anyone hoping to settle long term often spends months or longer searching for rental space or property, creating a backlog that functions much like a waitlist.
Lord Howe Island, Australia
Lord Howe Island, about 370 miles off Australia’s east coast, is one of the clearest examples of a place deliberately limiting human pressure. The permanent population is around 380, and the island caps tourist beds at roughly 400 at any one time under long-standing environmental rules. Internet and phone service are available but remain less central than the protected landscape that drives local policy.
The island’s UNESCO-listed environment is the main reason for those controls. Officials have long argued that strict visitor and development limits are necessary to protect native species, reefs and walking trails. As a result, Lord Howe feels unusually quiet compared with other famous island destinations.
That same system makes moving there difficult. Property is tightly regulated, available jobs are limited and many residents rely on long family or business ties. Housing pressure has been widely discussed in Australia, and for outsiders wanting to relocate, opportunities open rarely and are often snapped up quickly.
Fogo Island, Newfoundland and Labrador
Fogo Island, off the northeast coast of Newfoundland, is larger and more populated than some islands here, with about 2,200 residents spread across several communities. It is connected by ferry, and internet service exists, but many parts of life still revolve around weather, fishing seasons and long winter stretches that feel far removed from urban North American routines.
The island has gained attention in the past decade because of its striking architecture, local arts scene and community-led economic revival. Even so, it is not a mass-tourism hotspot. Visitor numbers remain manageable, especially compared with the better-known resort or cruise destinations many Americans picture when they think of islands.
That growing profile has made housing tighter. Local leaders and residents have spoken about limited inventory, renovation costs and the challenge of balancing new interest with community needs. For people hoping to move there permanently, the process can involve a long search for suitable housing and work, which amounts to a waitlist in all but name.
