Over the centuries Lundy has attracted more than its fair share of cheats, chancers and over-optimistic businessmen who have tried - and largely failed - to make the island pay.
But now this three-mile long hunk of granite in the Bristol Channel is enjoying a period of stability and prosperity that would turn failed profiteers of the past green with envy.
During the last 12 months, 20,000 visitors endured the often choppy crossing from north Devon or hopped on to the winter helicopter in search of a taste of the quiet life, and a record-breaking number stayed in Lundy's holiday lets.
Divers, climbers, wildlife lovers, and campanologists who like to ring the bells of the surprisingly large Gothic-style church of St Helena have been arriving in their droves even during the winter, when the place can be blasted by the wind, rain and sea salt.
It means the island, which has just one shop and one pub - but three lighthouses and its own slaughterhouse - is turning over £2m a year and is providing jobs and homes to a close-knit community of 27 hardy souls.
Despite its isolation, there is a surprising amount to do on Lundy, as long as you like the outdoor life. In the summer diving and snorkelling are popular. In the winter, visitors walk, watch wildlife, take photographs or paint, and almost inevitably, retire to the pub, the Marisco Tavern, for a drink and hearty meal.
But it is mostly about enjoying the peace and quiet. Robin, of Cwmbran, south Wales, has been visiting for 11 years and always chooses to go in winter now. "It's tranquil. You've got the place to yourselves without the daytrippers. We walk, we explore, we have a drink in the pub. There's a magic here."
Lundy's general manager Derek Green - who doubles as the fire chief (he took delivery of a new fire engine in summer, though it has yet to be used in anger), pub licensee and the unofficial policeman - said the future seemed bright: "Lundy has had mixed fortunes over the years. It's expensive to run an island, especially one in the Bristol Channel where the weather can be challenging, but we're in a good position."
Green said more and more people were coming to escape the rigours of living on the mainland, 11 miles away. While previously a typical Lundy visit was a day trip on the ferry, now people are staying - the 23 holiday homes have been full for 90% of the year.
"With rising prices, congestion, crime, everything that is blighting the mainland, Lundy has stood still. One of its attractions is that it hasn't changed in 40 or 50 years. It's a world apart."
Certainly crime is not a problem. A stolen fishing rod is the only recorded offence in the last five years. No one has been caught but Green says the case is not closed and he has a suspect in mind.
Not that it is anybody currently working on the island. They are a close bunch. Some are single, others are couples. Until recently there was a family with a child. Efforts were made to link him up to a local school via a webcam; it worked well for a time but he needed more physical contact with his classmates and the scheme was abandoned.
At 77, Reg Tuffin, who runs Lundy's private postal service, is the closest the island has to a local, having been there for 15 years. He hopes to stay for the rest of his life. "I came for a day trip on a paddle steamer in the 50s and was enchanted," he said. Over the years he has been kitchen porter, barman, cleaner and shop assistant. Home for him is a tiny converted goat shed, which he shares with a pygmy shrew.
The island is also making great efforts to be self-sufficient. The most popular dishes at the Marisco Tavern strongly feature the deer, wild sheep and goats that live on the island.
The islanders collect rainwater, treat it and use it for the water supply. Glass bottles are crushed and used to surface the road. Power remains a challenge as the island is not on the national grid but relies on a generator, which is switched off from midnight to 6am.
This year it will be 40 years since the National Trust bought Lundy and the Landmark Trust began to manage it, as it still does. While the future seems good, Lundy cannot be taken for granted. Only last year there was concern when chunks of the road - Lundy's lifeline - crumbled away.
The Landmark Trust declared the situation "critical" and launched a £1m appeal. Money came in and the road has been pinned back into the cliff. The island may not change but people's influence on it does. Many residents say they simply cannot plan ahead. Shop assistant Patrizia Fursdon, who is from northern Italy but came to live on Lundy after falling in love with Roger Fursdon, the island's engineer, said: "When you live here, you live day by day. I always think I am temporary here and so far it has been five years."
Tuffin warns that making Lundy work is a delicate task. "In the past people have had ideas about the island, that they can perhaps make a quick buck, but there's always the Lundy factor. Lundy decides what can be done here, not people."
Island life: Lundy's chequered history
Since prehistoric times people have tried, and often failed, to make an honest living out of Lundy. Pirates and cheats are the ones who have made handsome profits - and even they generally got their comeuppance.
During the prehistoric era, lack of flint, used to make tools, would have made life difficult for early settlers. From the dark ages onwards, pirates spotted the island's strategic worth and moved in, caused havoc in the Bristol Channel before being chased off.
One of the most notorious crooks who took advantage of Lundy was Thomas Benson, an MP for Barnstaple in the 18th century. One of his ruses was to hide convicts on the island after being paid to deport them to the United States. But he fled abroad after a scam in which a heavily insured ship was set on fire was unearthed.
In the 19th century a project to mine granite lasted only five years. It was expensive and impractical to get the stone to the mainland. In 1969 businessman Jack Hayward, the former owner of Wolverhampton Wanderers football club, bought the island and donated it to the National Trust.