For more than seven centuries there has been talk of a land those eyes can see and which then, inexplicably, vanishes. A marine enigma that fuels legends, maps and expeditions: the mysterious island of San Borondón.
A land that doesn’t exist but that everyone has seen
Canaries. Eight islands, they say. But for many there is a ninth, invisible and elusive. San Borondón would be the ghost island of the archipelago, capable of showing itself for a few moments and then dissolving like a mirage. Its fame is ancient: in the 13th century it already appears in the famous Hereford mapamundi with the name of San Brand. At the time they described it as one of the largest in the archipelago, yet no expedition was ever able to confirm its existence.
The navigator monk and the legend that endures
The name comes from Saint Brandán, a 6th century Irish monk known as the Navigator. Medieval chronicles say that, during one of his journeys, he landed on a lonely island in the middle of the ocean. He thought he had finally found solid ground, but the vision vanished before his eyes. From that episode was born the legend that still survives today in Canarian folklore.
Expeditions in search of a ghost
From the 16th to the 18th century, the island became an obsession for navigators, adventurers and local governors. Everyone wanted to discover the secret of that ghost land that some swore they had seen off the coast of El Hierro and La Palma. Some even claimed to have set foot on its coasts, others told of sudden storms, missing men and landscapes dissolved in clouds. But in the end, no one came back with concrete evidence.
Scientific reality or pure suggestion?
Modern scholars tend to downplay the legend. They talk about optical illusions, mirages caused by the refraction of light on water, or banks of clouds that take on the appearance of a floating island. Others hypothesize that an underwater volcanic formation may have briefly emerged from the sea before sinking again.
The mystery that never dies
Today, in the middle of 2025, San Borondón remains an enigma. Its shadow hovers among ancient maps and sailors’ tales, fueling the eternal fascination of the sea. Maybe it never existed, or maybe it did. But it is precisely this uncertainty that makes it immortal: a piece of legend that the Canary Islands never stop telling.
