Growing up in hippie California, I used to joke that the British weren’t as emotional as Americans, especially around strangers. Turns out I was wrong. You just need to make time for a yoga retreat.
I quickly learned this during a long weekend with Wild Times in a wooded valley outside Bath. The company runs yoga and adventure retreats in the UK, Europe and Morocco. The adventure element, which includes hiking, paddleboarding and swimming in the wild, as well as a simple but stylish retreat away from civilisation, was particularly appealing to me, someone who had only dabbled in yoga before. I wanted to learn more, but I also wanted to use the time to get some fresh air and relax.
Just now we were just a group of people with nothing in common, casually getting together, drinking tea, eating cake and chatting. Many come alone, like me, and others come in groups. Our group was 14 people, aged from their twenties to their early sixties. We have homes all over England: Hampshire, Derbyshire, Suffolk and many more. Well, this is also the centre of Dryrobe, a typical middle-class settlement.
But after about an hour, I had gained a profound insight into the lives of the other guests, an insight that only deepened during our time together outdoors. Founder Jenny Clarke asked us to introduce ourselves before our first yoga class, to say how we were feeling and what we were proud of. It would have been a perfect subject for British satire, but it ended up being surprisingly candid.
I understand that some people are grieving, others are going through a breakup. Some people are just feeling exhausted. I can relate to the latter, as I just finished the first draft of a book and I express the same feelings. I was hoping that being here would allow me to calm down, be alone, and reflect on the past year. I have severe Type A personality disorder and I put myself under a lot of pressure. My mind often works so fast that I forget to listen to my intuition.
It was surprisingly easy to be frank, knowing that everyone else was frank, too. The squat, round house we were in felt like an incredibly safe place. The only thing visible through the windows was greenery. The room was lit by flickering candles, giving off a warm glow, and the air was filled with the scent of lavender essential oil.
What made this weekend so special was the setting. We were in a natural forest, surrounded by tall beech trees, beautiful purple wildflowers and nettle-covered riverbanks. Where we were staying was a rambling row of buildings – yurts, huts and shepherds’ huts. The buildings were the work of a skilled carpenter who had erected them before the new owner named it Campwell.
My little home, aptly named ‘Fluffy Cottage’, has a roof full of wild foliage and is cosy and welcoming inside, with a comfy bed and a wood-burning stove. This has proved very useful in the gloomy British June weather. Every night I fall asleep to the crackling fire and the patter of rain.
If there was any downside, it was that while the composting toilets were great, they were quite smelly, and the ice bath near the Scandinavian-style sauna (which I frequented) was unfortunately too close to them.
We had six yoga classes over the weekend, most of which were led by Jenny. She can talk about herself in a soothing, podcast-like voice, but can also communicate with a humorous, warm tone. She shares stories, poems, and reflections; sessions include spiritual music and sound baths, as well as folk songs by Dido, Fleetwood Mac, and Carter Stevens.
“Don’t be angry. Do it for the process, and don’t ask, ‘Is it good or bad?’” she told us. That means that even if you lose your balance or giggle, you won’t feel embarrassed. It’s like going back to childhood wonder and play: growing down, not up.
For three days, each day was dedicated to a different element. Day one was “earth”: cultivating a sense of roots and home. Doing yoga nidra (guided meditation) in pajamas with a weighted lavender eye pillow felt like a nice adult nap. Day two was “fire”: twisting your stomach and performing quick, sweat-inducing moves. Ignite the flames of passion, purpose, and motivation. We even practiced warrior yoga and downward dog on paddleboards on a nearby lake (amazingly, no one fell).
The last day was all about being good: being kind to yourself as well as to others. “Know that you are loved” became almost a mantra. Jenny repeated the sentence over and over, and asked us to repeat it after her. Soon we were repeating it to each other.
If this sounds a little too esoteric… for me, it’s just that balance where it feels natural to embrace it. We often end a session by placing one hand on your heart and the other on your stomach. This technique will help you find your center and access the wisdom of your body.
But it seemed particularly appropriate, as the food was also central to our stay. This is not one of those resorts that promotes calorie-restricted eating. Bet Al Rikabi is exactly the kind of cook I like best: she can whip up a veritable feast from whatever ingredients she has on hand. Every meal was described as “superb” or “delicious.” All the dishes are vegetarian, cooked over an open fire, and incredibly delicious: think hearty lentils, fiery curries, smoky naan. My favorite is breakfast: always two courses. Maybe it’s tart apple-cherry compote and golden chocolate turmeric porridge; later, perhaps, baharat fries and buckwheat, banana, and tahini pancakes.
As we ate, I slowly began to feel attracted to a few other single women. We shared stories, laughed, and comforted each other. Most people, like me, choose to put their phones away and abstain from alcohol during a retreat, which helps. It allows us to be fully present with each other. Later, as we roasted marshmallows, the conversation moved from sexy priests to nudity and ghost stories.
A 56-year-old woman named Mimi Spencer is reflected in the lake. The walk from the campsite is ten to twenty minutes, depending on which way you go. She said, “It’s like a mirage to me. If I come back next year, it’s gone. Without these people, it’s gone.” We knew it wasn’t true, and she didn’t believe it. But it still captures how we all felt, especially when we first arrived and the sun came out.
On the last morning, a small group returned for one last swim. We jumped into the cold water, screaming and laughing at the crunch of mud under our toes. We paddled, dog-paddled, and looked up at the clear blue sky. We talked about love and life; maybe a few tears.
One of them is Amy Pearl, 36, from Suffolk. She later told me: “I had been going through a difficult year with a break-up. I think I was looking for a safe place to reconnect with myself and meet new people. By the end of the retreat I felt a real sense of relief, joy and rediscovering the best part of myself.”
Jenny founded Wild Time three years ago as a side hustle, but this year she launched it full-time for the first time, offering off-site events year-round. About 30 percent of participants return, some for their eighth time.
Danny Clarke, 29, from Derbyshire, is visiting for the third time. I ask him what made him come. “On my first retreat, Jen created a safe space for me to think deeply and talk to complete strangers. It was the best therapy I’ve ever experienced.”
After that experience, I told myself that I would try to go on retreat with Jen once a year, marking it on my calendar and knowing that no matter what life throws at me, retreat is a time when I can breathe again and feel like myself.”
I came here to enjoy some alone time. But ultimately, what matters most to me is the connection with others. The feeling of being part of a group, of something bigger than yourself. Remember that most people are kind, and empathy is a superpower. But most importantly, I couldn’t leave without feeling the truth of the mantra we repeated over and over: know that you are loved. Lizzie Franer was a guest of The Wild Times, which offers two-night full-board packages from £525 per person (thewildtimes.co)
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