Ann's Blog
Laudat, Dominica:
April 10, 2010
A trip to the spa
Sun and salt can wreak havoc on a girl’s skin and hair, and long hikes are murder on her muscles. Thank goodness for the Mother Nature Spa.
The first branch of it I visited was a couple of years ago on Tintamarre, an islet that’s part of French St. Martin and sits just a couple of miles off its northeast coast. Where the turquoise shallows meet land is a long curve of satiny white sand, and behind that perfect beach are reddish cliffs: source of a mud, we’d heard, that’s renowned for its exfoliating and rejuvenating properties. What did I have to lose?
We sailed Receta to Tintamarre from St. Martin early one morning with our friends Chris and Yani on their ketch, Magus. Once we were sure the two boats were well anchored, we rowed to shore, dragged the dinghy high up on the beach, and set to work at the do-it-yourself spa. We scraped a pail of dry red clay off a cliff, mixed it with seawater, slathered it all over each other, and then baked in the sun until it dried to a cracking crust. Finally, we headed for the natural Jacuzzis where the ocean swirled in pools between volcanic boulders, and let the seawater sluice off the mud. Even the doubter among us – that would be Steve – could feel the difference afterwards: smoother, fresher, softer skin.
Smoother skin and relief from sore muscles
Maybe that’s why I managed to talk him into a “treatment” at another branch of the Mother Nature Spa last month: the Diamond Baths, part of the lush botanical gardens in Soufriere, St. Lucia. These stone baths, fed by naturally warm mineral-rich waters from underground springs (this is a volcanic area), were built by Louis XIV in the late 18th century to fortify his troops against the St. Lucian climate. And, the story goes, Josephine Bonaparte bathed here when visiting her father’s nearby plantation.
Good enough for Josephine, good enough for me. With our friends Devi and Hunter from Arctic Tern, we decide to splurge on the “private bath.” I’m picturing a stone-lined open-air pool hidden amongst lavish rain-forest vegetation with muted sunlight trickling down on us. In fact, the bath is private because it’s hidden in a small, dim cabin. The four of us line up in it like sardines in a can (the matron who led us there expected each couple to use it in turn, but that didn’t sound like any fun), attracting the curious from a tour group with our raucous laughter.
We marinate cheek-to-cheek in the tepid, slightly sulphurous water until we’re wrinkled and limp. Then Devi and I insist on testing the hotter, sun-warmed outdoor pools before drying off. I have a mineraly scent for the rest of the day – and my smoother, softer skin, of course.
But the best natural spa treatment we’ve discovered was on the way back from our hike to the Boiling Lake with our guests Pam and Ron. (See my March 25, 2010 post.) Just before we recross the Valley of Desolation – at which point we’ve been hiking for at least four hours – there is a small waterfall at the side of the trail, fed by a hot stream from the Valley of Desolation. It plunges into a perfect milky-blue pool (its color a result of dissolved minerals) – a natural hot tub, surrounded by gorgeous rain-forest. Pam and I are first in. The waterfall pummels warmth into our shoulders, the swirling water relaxes our aching legs. I bury my toes into the heated sand bottom and announce I have no intention of leaving.
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