Detoxing in style on a juice retreat at Maison de Lunel in rural France
Sharon Walker reviews an organic juice detox retreat in the Lot region of south west France and despite her initial juicing fears she finds palatable juice shots, renewed zingy energy and her hipbones
It wouldn’t normally be my first choice of holiday. Lemon water, wheatgrass juice, no food, none, not even a nibble on a carrot stick nor the odd almond. They say that some people eat to live others love to eat. Well, you can guess which camp I fall into. But life post-Covid was getting me down. I was feeling gloomy, lonely and anxious. I was waking at odd hours and had started to view wine as ‘medicinal’. I clearly needed some kind of reboot but would a juice detox be too much? I booked, cancelled, rebooked again. In the end I was won over by Maison de Lunel’s chic looking accommodation. If I fainted through lack of sustenance it would, at least, be in style. I told myself I could smuggle in an emergency supply of nuts and booked a flight to Toulouse.
I was met by driver Roch at the airport and after a pleasant 90-minute drive we rolled up at Maison de Lunel and I immediately fell in love. The building is a charming, characterful stone farmhouse with barn and stable block, all seamlessly converted, but it was the views that really won my heart. I sat in the wooden hot tub taking in the rolling countryside chatting to some of my fellow juicers, until my fingers wrinkled like prunes. Rather marvellously I shared the week with a fantastic crew of women, including an artist, a teacher and an entrepreneur, most of whom had escaped the daily grind, for early retirement in France.
My room was another source of joy. Simple elegance, crisp hotel-quality sheets, light stone floors, good quality fittings. I dived into the shower to wash away the journey, relishing the heat and water pressure. But then my stomach began to grumble.
It had been a while since I’d done a juice fast and the last time I’d struggled. By day three, I could have eaten the carpet, if only I’d had the energy. Juicing gets a bad rap from some experts, who accuse it of being too high in sugar and lacking fibre; I’d often been told ‘eat the whole fruit.’ So I had my doubts. But that was before I met Ross, Lunel’s irrepressible co-founder and juicing impresario, who first launched Lunel together with her husband Neil into 2021’s stop-start summer.
“I waited apprehensively for the dreaded detox ‘slump’, but I felt completely fine all week. Not just fine but fantastic”
“Nobody is suggesting this is going to be your regular diet,” she tells us. “The idea is to give our digestive system a break. We’re giving the body a chance to rest, digest and heal. What we’re doing here is releasing toxins, it’s so important to get them out.” The problem isn’t just wine, coffee and the usual suspects, Ross tells us, whipping out a metre rule to represent man’s seven million year evolution in the first of our daily workshops. It’s only in the last few millimetres, over the last couple of decades, that 40,000 - 70,000 or so new chemicals have flooded our environment. “Our bodies haven’t evolved to process these things,” she says solemnly.
Ross assures us we won’t feel hungry. The juices will supply us with around 1000 calories a day, so enough energy to keep going. If we feel hungry it is probably ‘false hunger’. ‘“Really?” I think, still fully anticipating a day three slump.
Our days start with the gentle chime of a bell at 6.30am. From here we head to the elegant kitchen for warm water and lemon, to flush out the toxins our body has offloaded overnight. Then it’s straight into yoga with Shruti, Maison De Lunel’s gorgeous yoga instructor in the beautiful, light-filled converted barn. Dressed in a changing array of jewel colours, Shruti radiates a warming sunshine energy that’s incredibly easy to fall for. “That that looks great,” she says encouragingly, as we ease ourselves into a gentle twist. This is yoga as it’s meant to be, nurturing, elevating, restorative. No judgement, no competitive poses, just gently easing out our muscles and focusing on the breath, with some nice groovy music. Ninety minutes flies by. Strangely, I’m not thinking about food, which is just as well because ‘breakfast’ is wheatgrass shot, which I can only describe as an acquired taste made bearable by the knowledge that it’s so bloody good for you.
At 9am, it’s time for the morning walk. Neil offers me a weighted vest, which I politely decline, though by the end of the week I will be powering up hills carrying an extra 5kg without batting an eyelid. The walks are lovely. This part of France is pristinely beautiful, lushly green, with perfectly presented stone farmhouses, wildflower fields and hedgerows and some very handsome cows. With all this to amuse us, along with the all the heartfelt chats as we shared our life stories, I barely notice that the walks were gradually getting longer. Was I hungry? Strangely not, but occasionally I’d start to flag just as we arrived back at Lunel. It wasn’t that I was dreaming of a full English. I just needed something. But then the minute we crossed Lunel’s treelined threshold, there, waiting for us was a row of zingy ginger and turmeric juice shots - hallelujah - quickly followed by our green morning juice, a replenishing full pint glass.
This was the daily pattern. Just when I’d was start to feel like it might be time for an ‘emergency' banana, Ross would appear with our next juice. The timing was literally perfect, with juicing pitstops at 11am, 1pm, and 4pm, all of the juices were delicious (well maybe not the wheatgrass), none of them too sweet or cloying. The programme felt expertly curated. This wasn’t the only thing that that set La Lunel apart, so much care had gone into every little detail. For example, when I’d arrived at Lunel with a gut-wrenching stomach cramps, Ross had immediately offered heated bean bags and hot water bottle, which I would then find tucked into my bed, nightly thereafter.
The balance of the programme felt right too. Our days were structured with gently informative activities, with a trip to the permaculture farm, a brilliant juicing workshop and Indian head massage, but left us enough spare time to jump on the bikes, or simply doze by the pool. At 5pm we headed back to the barn, now lit with candles and suffused with incense, for gently restorative yoga. By 6.30pm my stomach might be grumbling, but it wouldn’t be long before it was time for a warming soup supper. I relished these ‘dinners’, which were filled with conversation and laughter, as sociable as any meal with friends breaking bread, just without the bread.
By day three I had started to feel lighter, my stomach was certainly flatter and I had renewed zingy kind of energy, not to mention a slender, pious feeling that made me feel quite pleased with myself. My hip bones had started to emerge for the first time in decades. “You look fantastic,” Shruti tells us, sucking in her cheeks to show she sees a visible difference.
Was I hungry? Not so much. Some of us even declared ourselves “full” halfway through the final juice of the day, though I was not one of them. I relished every drop, as I waited apprehensively for the dreaded detox ‘slump’, a headache, aching joints, nose-diving energy, but none of it transpired. I felt completely fine all week. Not just fine but fantastic. I don’t think this was because I’m so clean living I sidestepped the detox symptoms. My diet isn’t bad, but I certainly cook and I rarely buy organic and, or at least I didn’t, though I’m now prioritising better quality food. I put the ease of the detox down to the design of the programme.
“When I first started doing this, people did get more symptoms,” Ross tells me. “But I’ve played around with it so that now we rarely see them.” I left the retreat feeling completely chilled and uplifted, lighter and energised, with a renewed commitment to looking after my body with a largely organic, plant-based diet.
