Going off-grid with The Wild Times in England
Sasha Bates reviews a yoga and paddle boarding retreat in Somerset, where she experiences yoga on water, a forest at its best and a slower pace of life
Feeling overworked and under-appreciated I barrel down the M4 slightly regretting my decision to head to Somerset for just two nights, afraid the effort of getting myself there will far outweigh any benefits I might accrue. I find myself happily disabused of this thought. The forested setting which immediately calms my jangly, urbanised nervous system is one big reason, but so too is the warm and welcoming presence of Jenny Clark, founder of The Wild Times.
I’ll start with the forested setting because, really, wow, it’s hard to overstate the impact of such a sudden and unexpected plummet into another time and place. As I peel my stressed body out of my hot little car, I am enveloped in greenery, in ancient timelessness. I haul my bag into the waiting wheelbarrow and trundle it along the woodland path to ‘hairy cabin’ - a tiny shepherd’s hut made of huge tree trunks expertly crafted together. The bed takes up the entire far wall, leaving just enough space for the rustic – and, yes, also wooden and handcrafted, furniture – chair, bookcase and a couple of shelves. I take up residence on my little terrace, breathe in big lungfuls of fresh air and watch branches swaying above and in front of me.
“Jenny is a laid-back, affable presence, and I especially love her yoga atop our boards. It’s a wonderful combination of blissful, calm floating, but with a fair amount of core strength engagement needed to stay balanced and afloat”
At the outdoor yoga shala Jenny holds a gentle introductory session - a bit of movement to introduce ourselves to our neglected bodies, and some chat to introduce ourselves to each other. There are 14 of us, all women, all in need of recharging, and with ages ranging from twenties to fifties. Jenny tells us everything is welcome – doing nothing but sleeping, throwing yourself at the activities, crying, laughing, drinking, not drinking, whether your vice be coffee or alcohol –all is welcomed. Jenny is a laid-back, affable presence and it transpires that many of the women are repeat visitors.
Our evening walk through the forest, and the stunning views that materialise along the way, remind me that England in the summer really does have some wild, natural and beautiful places. And then we reach the lake. If I were being pedantic, I could posit that the name pond might possibly be more appropriate, as it’s not huge, but it is such a welcome sight after the travelling, the yoga, the walk, that I dive right in. Whatever you want to call it, it is absolutely delightful, to look at and to be in. Fresh and bracing, but bearably so and I am far from a stoic when it comes to cold water. Moorhens and dragonflies accompany us as we swim but best of all is that this is a private body of water, and very secluded, so no other humans interrupt the idyll.
Supper is welcome and delicious. From the flat breads to the pickled beetroot, to the sweet potato and spinach curry itself, everything is made by chef Beth’s own fair hand. I am far too full for pudding but when the caramelised pineapple and cashews with Greek yoghurt is placed in front of me, I am putty in its hands. Yoga nidra beneath the stars follows.
That night I sleep soundly in my little shepherd’s hut strung with solar powered fairy lights. Being midsummer the light arrives very early, and I have no curtains, and nor, of course, do my neighbours, the birds, who start their warbling what feels like a very short time span away from when I first lay down. But having foreseen this situation I don ear plugs and eye mask and drift right back off. There is a definite feel of camping, but with absolutely no effort needed. Yes, you might need a headtorch to take you to the loo in the middle of the night but on a moonlit night, not even that feels really necessary. The lack of electricity doesn’t impede and in fact enhances the feel of sleeping in a wood - trees ahead of you, trees behind you, trees to either side of you.
The morning yoga energises us very gently. Jenny’s classes are suitable for beginners, and particularly amenable to those who have been frightened by or put off yoga in the past. Instructions are clear and simple; poses are broken down into their constituent parts and the pace is slow and easy to follow. More advanced practitioners might feel a little frustrated but can always add in their own flurries should they feel the need, or they can enjoy going back to basics and experiencing their practice in a different and more accepting, more curious way. Jenny’s calming, lilting voice relaxes everyone.
Post breakfast – more deliciousness – we have the choice of total collapse or an energising paddle board lesson on the lake. I choose paddle boarding and elegantly (in my eyes, if in no one else’s) glide around, admiring the lush greenery. We then bobble about in place while Jenny guides us through another yoga practice, this time atop our boards. I love it, it’s a wonderful combination of blissful, calm floating, but with a fair amount of core strength engagement needed to stay balanced and afloat. Even the timider women who swore they were only coming to watch and had no intention of joining in somehow find themselves engaged and loving it. After everyone else returns for lunch, I decide to stay and revel in the solitude. I float on my back and am treated to visits from a swallow, a kestrel, a trout and a shoal of tadpoles.
Add to all this a sauna, a gong bath and a goodie bag well stocked with healthy edibles, a notebook, and beautiful hand illustrated postcards, the M4 saw a very different person return home, and at a much slower pace, even if it was only two days later.
