St. Brandon's Atoll: A 90-hour Travel Odyssey - Is it Worth It?

Of all the remote atolls in the Indian Ocean, St. Brandon’s may be the least known. If you’re a flats angler, chances are you’ve heard of the Seychelles—but Mauritius? That’s still a bit off the radar. And yet, roughly 270 miles northeast of Mauritius, lies one of the most remarkable saltwater fisheries on Earth.

I first visited St Brandon’s over a decade ago. 13 years, to be exact. At the time, access was via a liveaboard vessel, and the Fly Castaway guide team was still learning how to unlock the fishery’s full potential. Despite the early-stage logistics, that trip was nothing short of incredible. I caught the biggest bonefish of my life (several of them), landed multiple permit and large bluefin trevally, and got absolutely humbled by a few GT’s.

So why did it take me so long to return? Honestly, I’m not sure. Business grew, new destinations emerged, and one year rolled into the next. But St Brandon’s never left my mind.

This spring, I finally made the journey back. I traveled from our quiet corner of Oregon to a tiny speck of sand in the middle of the ocean. People who know me will tell you I don’t fuss over an extended travel itinerary. In fact, I usually downplay it. For example, getting to the outer islands of the Seychelles feels straightforward to me. It is simply a long flight from the West Coast to Dubai, then on to Mahé, followed by a short charter hop to your destination.

However, getting to St Brandon’s? This travel schedule certainly earns the word “epic”.

Getting to Mauritius takes about the same amount of time as getting to the Seychelles, but once you arrive in the country you still have a long way to go. First, you’ll spend an evening in Port Luis. From there, you board a very basic, and I do mean basic, but seaworthy supply vessel for a 26 to 30-plus-hour open-ocean crossing. And this isn’t a repurposed dive boat or a stripped-down liveaboard. It’s a working boat, plain and simple, and comfort isn’t part of the package.

The sleeping arrangements are crude at best; a handful of foam mats and a few soggy beanbags scattered across the covered back deck, plus two tiny berths with four thin mats each with two up, two down, no privacy and sometimes the tepid a/c actually works. The rest of the boat feels like a combination of garage, engine room, and storage shed. Random ropes, tangled fishing lines, plastic barrels of fuel, and the general detritus of utility boating are strewn about. It’s a bit of a mess, and it doesn’t pretend to be otherwise.

There’s snacks and drinks somewhere in the mix, and the crew does their best, but make no mistake—this is not an easy ride. The boat pitches and rolls nonstop. You’ll be tired, sweaty, and maybe a little bit queasy. If you can sleep through it, you’re lucky. If not, you’ll just endure it.

And yet, this final leg of the journey is part of what makes St Brandon what it is. It’s the gatekeeper—the barrier that keeps the crowds out, that preserves the fishery’s solitude; that makes it feel like an expedition, not a vacation. It’s a filter for those who really want to be there.

Some will say it’s a shame there’s no charter flight. Others, like me, believe the boat ride is a small price to pay to experience one of the most untouched flats fisheries left on the planet. Either way, the question I often get is: Is it worth it? I find the answer is highly individual. To help you decide for yourself let me tell you about the flats, the fish, and the camp because when you understand what the place is I believe you will arrive at your answer.

The Flats
There are a lot of saltwater destinations, and each one has its own unique qualities. To one degree or another, they’re all beautiful. But St. Brandon’s takes the prize. Not only is the fishery large, St. Brandon’s Atoll, also known as Cargados Carajos Shoals, is 31 miles long and varies from 3 to 8 miles in width. In total, it covers nearly 80 square miles of reef, flats, and shallow lagoons. The flats here are a combination of hard white sand, turtle grass flats, flowing white sand islands, and coral islands. Its combination of color, texture and sand, freely flow to form shapes that make it the most visually stunning saltwater environment I have ever experienced. For whatever reason the light here is special, unique, and often the entire ecosystem seems to be glowing. The water inside the lagoon is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s a brilliant, glowing blue that in the midday sun, looks like it’s lit from below. Against the pure white sand islands, it almost looks like an AI generated facsimile.   

I love wading the flats. For me the crowning jewel to the fishery is that it is all accessed by foot. If you are the type that likes to cover ground the able South African guides will certainly put you to the test. 

Bonefish
St. Brandon’s is first and foremost a bonefish lover’s paradise. They are big, abundant, and with only a limited number of small groups fishing the atoll per year, they remain largely unpressured. Most fish fall in the 5–7-pound range, and larger specimens are regularly encountered. Double-digit fish are a real possibility here.

As a rule, they behave the way you would hope would, often happily eating well-presented flies. Depending on the tides, you’ll fish for them at different depths. My favorite being large singles and doubles in skinny water that just barley covers my boots.

Permit
On my first trip to St Brandon’s I was lucky enough to land two Permit. Still, I did not remember the trip as permit focused. The few permit caught by the group were around the coral islands and we only targeted them on certain tides. Over the years I had known the guides had figured out the fishery and felt confident of finding them regularly, but on this trip, I was completely surprised by the extent to which they had figured it out. Not only had they refined the fishing around the islands on the spring tides, but more importantly they learned how to regularly find them on the flats. This means that you can now fish for permit during just about any tidal conditions. While I really enjoyed fishing the islands on the bigger tidal coefficients, I absolutely loved the long walks (multiple miles) on the sand and turtle grass flats that the smaller tides enabled. Each time we did, we had numerous (10 - 40+) encounters. We found some solo cruising fish, small schools, and a few tagging along with sting rays. I can’t think of anywhere else on earth where you can do this. The bottom line is the sense of possibility here is real and as most know, that’s half the battle with permit.

Trevally
Although there are good numbers of very large bluefin trevally and some absolute monster GT’s, I don’t consider this as much as a giant trevally destination as those in the Seychelles. The large bluefin seem to have taken the place of medium sized GT’s and their neurotic behavior makes them a bit harder to hook. The big GT’s tend to be residents with PHD’s as opposed to ocean going fish that can be much more user friendly. Still, we had our shots and landed a number of each on the trip. Personally, I had several encounters with GT’s, including two truly massive fish that both moved aggressively to my fly before cursing off in the other direction. Both events were heart-pounding, and unforgettable.

The Camp
The fishing camp is a seasonal, low-impact base on Raphael Island. Accommodations are clean and functional. It has three simple double-occupancy rooms with fans, two bathrooms shared by the group, a small comfortable dining area and a covered porch for watching the sunrise and sunset. This isn’t a luxury lodge, but it’s not a rough camp either. The staff is welcoming, the food is decent, and everything works. You’ll sleep well, eat well, and spend nearly every hour outside, close to the water.

Who This Trip is Best For?
St. Brandon’s is not a trip for the faint of heart. It’s for anglers who crave truly remote experiences and who are willing to endure long travel and a rugged 24-hour boat ride across open ocean to access something extraordinary. It’s for those who love long walks on foot, sight-fishing to world-class bonefish and permit, and the electric possibility of a trevally encounter.

If you want comfort and convenience, there are easier places to go. But if you’re the kind of angler who thrives on exploration, solitude, and wild places that still feel untouched, St. Brandon’s will reward you in ways few destinations can.

Let’s get back to the question at hand... Is it worth it? As you might have guessed, that is a question only you can answer.