I’ve just experienced the latest travel trend, one championed by the likes of
Cameron Diaz and Julia Roberts. It’s the deprivation vacation, also known as
the bikini boot camp: hard-working holidays designed to tone your body and
clear your mind with a strict diet and a sergeant-major exercise regime.
Mine wasn’t any old bikini boot camp, either. I did the full Brazilian at Body &
Soul Adventures, a rainforest retreat down the coast from Rio, where Davina
McCall and Ashley Judd have worked on their red-carpet figures until they
added up to a perfect 10.
First, the deprivation bit: my room smelt like a tramp’s underarm and, every
day, I was forced to get up at 6am, exercise hard for eight hours and
survive on detox rations (no meat, no caffeine, no alcohol, just 1,500
beansprouty calories). There were no scatter-cushion comforts: the towels
were like sandpaper, and the soaps those bright-pink, credit-card slithers
that could disappear indefinitely in a fold of flesh. No room service, no
designer appliances. Worse still, there was communal dining (I’d rather have
my nails pulled out with pliers than do small talk).
On the plus side, it was the best holiday I’ve ever had — and, as I specialise
in luxury travel, that means better than staying at the most expensive
hotels in the most A-list destinations.
I know it sounds mad, and my conversion certainly wasn’t instant. When I
arrived at the camp on Ilha Grande, I did a lot of “you cannot be serious”
blinking, not least when I realised that the half-empty bowl of tepid,
spongey orange soup wasn’t a starter — it was dinner. That night, I lay in
bed under linen with a thread count of about four. It all seemed like a
terrible mistake.
A WEEK is a long time in the tropics. For a start, Ilha Grande, the Big Island
in a group of about 300 dots in the Baia de Ilha Grande, is an inspirational
location — a gnarly fist of rainforest-clad hills, teeming with exotic
wildlife.
Our trainer was Kirtan, an archetypal laid-back surfer dude; his sidekick was
João Paulo (JP), The personification of Baloo, big, bear-like and
perennially cheerful. They were the perfect combination to chivvy us to
greater heights. “Us” being a group of six (although there can be as many as
14): class clown Tony, a burly mid-forties Italian-American from New Jersey
(think bit part in The Sopranos); Melissa, also mid-forties, a bespectacled
New York independent producer (Woody Allen in a skirt); Liza, a
thirtysomething Big Apple headhunter; and Jen, who does something on Wall
Street. And, of course, there was a teacher’s pet. Ours was graphic artist
Gary from Dorset, who was so sporty that Kirtan and JP wanted him to join
their team (as Mariella Frostrup did, returning for a stint as a trainer
after holidaying here).
The course was Teutonically regimented. Although we were reassured that we
could skip a trek or turn back if we needed to, our trainers didn’t give in
easily. During our first walk, Melissa felt dizzy. JP gave her six raisins
(counting them out one by one) for a burst of energy. Hand outstretched,
gulping for air, she blinked through steamed-up glasses at the miserly
offering.
The schedule had been cunningly engineered to encourage us towards the
ultimate challenge. On day one, JP had pointed to the highest spot on the
island, Parrot’s Peak, a beak of granite pecking its way out of the
rainforest canopy at 3,000ft. “That’s where we walk to on Friday,” he’d said
casually. My response was a few rapid blinks, but Tony, who’d taken the
course the previous year, said: “Man, it nearly killed me, but it felt
amazing.” Liza, another returnee, nodded. “It’s a feeling you wish you could
bottle.”
Throughout the week, I’d snatch glimpses of the Peak, its looming presence
initially as sinister as the jungle drums in a Stewart Granger movie. But,
as we managed ever more difficult walks, I turned increasingly can-do.
THE HIGHLY structured nature of the schedule soon became a security blanket.
When you’re bone tired, it’s a comfort to be tied to a timetable that never
requires a decision from you. We’d rise at 6am — not as painful as it sounds
if you’re not drinking alcohol or eating difficult-to-digest foods — for a
one-hour yoga session in a creeper-covered pavilion. After breakfast, we’d
climb into our kayaks and paddle through clear water to the start point for
that day’s hike.
Bliss, but nothing compared to the magnificence of the rainforest. We’d tramp
through shady Hansel-and-Gretel glades, where every inch of knotty trunk is
covered in lime-green moss. Cascades of white-water river bashed against
glistening boulders; black and bubblegum-pink butterflies passed, weighed
down by the moisture-filled air to a slow-motion flap; clumps of pillar-box
red fungi were so bright they could have been airbrushed by Disney. It was
like being a toddler again, discovering everything for the first time.
It spurred us on — as did the locals. As we panted uphill, all Lycra and
backpacks, they’d constantly overtake us — barefoot mums wearing
kitchen-sink floral dresses, dads carrying the shopping, all scampering
along like frisky mountain goats. Dear diary, today I saw the benefits of
regular exercise.
There were carrots to compensate for the sticky bits. Those gruelling trails
were rewarded by lazy recuperation on spectacular beaches, or deeply
therapeutic twilight massages. And every sensual pleasure is magnified when
you’ve slogged for it. Water can never feel more refreshing than that cupped
from a waterfall on a baking mountainside; no jackfruit can taste as sweet
as the one you stumble across when you’re so exhausted that you’re not sure
if you have the strength to rip it apart.
There were lows — one day, Tony was so hungry that he almost cried with
gratitude when Liza shared her fruit with him; we all had badly blistered
hands and feet — but these niggles evaporated in the high of achievement.
And when I completed the mission-impossible summit of Parrot’s Peak, the
feeling was, indeed, something I wish I could have bottled.
By day seven, I had lost 3lb and felt fitter, more flexible and generally more
positive. And though Melissa had her doubts — she’d enjoyed the course, but
would have liked more time to stop and stare — everyone else was feeling
toned and terrific. Gary was going to stick to a vegetarian diet, Tony was
already planning his next visit, Liza had booked to stay for a second week,
and when a glowing Jen put back on the jeans that had been snug on arrival,
they hung off her like one of those before-and-after Weight Watchers ads.
Admittedly, Brazil is a long way, but it’s worth it. Go on: your body deserves
a break.
In brief
USP The deprivation vacation, also known as the bikini boot
camp, is a hard-working holiday designed to tone your body and clear your
mind with a strict diet and a sergeant-major exercise regime. This one is
down the coast from Rio in a hilly rainforest teeming with exotic wildlife.
AMBIENCE My room smelt like a tramp’s underarm and there were
no scatter-cushion comforts: the towels were like sandpaper, and the soaps
those bright-pink, credit-card slithers that could disappear indefinitely in
a fold of flesh.
EXPERIENCE Every day I was forced to get up at 6am and
exercise hard for eight hours. After breakfast, we’d climb into our kayaks
and paddle through clear water to the start point for that day’s hike. Those
gruelling trails were rewarded by lazy recuperation on spectacular beaches,
or deeply therapeutic twilight massages. By day seven, I had lost 3lb and
felt fitter, more flexible and generally more positive. It was the best
holiday I've ever had - and I specialise in luxury travel.
FOOD We were forced to survive on detox rations - no meat, no
caffeine, no alcohol, just 1,500 beansprouty calories a day. Worse still,
there was communal dining – and I’d rather have my nails pulled
out with pliers than do small talk.
IN CROWD Davina McCall and Ashley Judd have worked on their
red-carpet figures here until they added up to a perfect 10. Our small group
of six comprised smart New Yorkers in their 30s and 40s.
WALLET WATCH Seven days at Body & Soul Adventures start
at £1,092, including meals, activities and transfers. Trailfinders has
flights to Rio de Janeiro from Birmingham, Manchester, Heathrow and Gatwick,
from £555.
NEED TO KNOW Body & Soul Adventures (020 3002 0936;
www.bodysouladventures.com); Trailfinders (0845 058 5858;
www.trailfinders.com)
FIVE MORE TOP CAMPS
IRELAND
Tucked into the wild west coast of Co Galway, at the base of rugged Mount
Mweelrea, the Delphi Mountain Retreat & Spa caters to seriously
outdoorsy types. There’s a programme of 30 group activities, from
sea-kayaking amid the dolphins and puffins to some of Europe’s best
hill-walking, to get you acquainted with muscles you never knew existed
The wood, stone and glass complex feels more like an upmarket hostel than a
hotel, but the food is decent and the service friendly. It offers
complimentary yoga, hot tubs, sauna and steam rooms, and a spa for
treatments and massages.
Do it: from £325 for two nights, including all activities and
most meals: call 00 353 95 42987 or visit www.delphiescape.com. Fly to Knock
with Ryanair (www.ryanair.com), from Gatwick, Luton and Stansted; or BMI
Baby (0870 264 2229, www.bmibaby.co.uk), from Durham Tees Valley, Manchester
and Birmingham.
SPAIN
In:Spa offers health and fitness makeovers with an A-list pedigree. Up to 20
guests are put through their paces at a 16th-century Andalusian hacienda by
a dream team that includes the likes of the yoga teacher Katy Appleton (who
bent Geri Halliwell into shape) and personal trainers Jamie Baird and John
Orum (who keep A-listers such as Kate Beckinsale pert and alert).
It’s a tough routine of 6.30am starts and up to eight hours’ hard exercise a
day, including morning tramps through the spectacular Sierra Morena
mountains and afternoons of personal training and nutrition consultations.
Your efforts are rewarded with delicious detox cuisine.
Do it: a week starts at £1,950pp, including all meals,
activities, treatments, massages and transfers: call 0845 458 0723 or visit
www.inspa-retreats.com. Flights are not included. The nearest airport is
Seville: British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com ) flies from Gatwick and
Heathrow; Ryanair (www.ryanair.com ) flies from Liverpool and Stansted; and
Aer Lingus (0818 365000, www.aerlingus.com ) flies from Dublin. In:Spa also
has bases on Ibiza and in Morocco.
CANARIES
Club La Santa, on the ungrotty northwest coast of Lanzarote,is one of the
best-known sports camps in the world,and has helped Olympian rowers Matthew
Pinsent and James Cracknell with intensive training in the run-up to big
competitions. There are more than 30 complimentary sports on offer,
including surfing, kayaking and cycling, and you can hire a personal trainer
to conduct a thorough fitness assessment and devise an individual training
programme.
The resort has 400 self-catering apartments,which are more functional than
fancy, and six bars and restaurants if you want to skip the kitchen.
Unusually for a fitness resort, Club La Santa is child-friendly, with a good
range of activities for juniors as young as three.
One nice touch to keep you motivated post-holiday: your instructor will e-mail
you regularly to see how your fitness is progressing — or, if your programme
has lapsed, shame you into dusting down those trainers again.
Do it: Sports Tours International (0161 790 9890,
www.sportstoursinternational.co.uk) has a one-bedroom apartment from £487
for a week. It can arrange flights from most UK airports; from about £160.
Personal training starts at £18 per hour.
MEXICO
The Amansala Bikini Boot Camp and Eco Chic Resort,on a powder-fine stretch of
white beach two hours outside Cancun, was created by two thirtysomething
Manhattanites disillusioned with the Big Apple. It offers a relatively kind
regime for up to 25 guests. There’s no calorie-controlled diet (although the
emphasis is on healthy salads and fish dishes); coffee, tea and alcohol are
on the menu; sessions — a mix of yoga, power-walking, cycling and swimming —
have an informal style (using coconuts for weights, for example); and you
can skip classes if you fancy a spot of sunbathing instead.
The accommodation, in beachfront cabanas, is shabby chic, but with luxurious
touches. And it must work — this is where skinny Minnies such as Sienna
Miller and Jade Jagger come to ensure they stay at the top of the pecking
order.
Do it: six nights start at £1,006pp, full-board, including
classes; call 00 52 9841 000805 or visit www.amansala.com. Flights are
extra: Charter Flight Centre (0845 045 0153, www.charterflights.co.uk ) and
Air 2000 (0870 240 1402, www.air2000.com) both have options from Manchester
and Gatwick to Cancun.
KENYA
Tara Wood is the enthusiastic and engaging sportswoman behind Wildfitness, a
hybrid adventure holiday-cum-fitness camp based in a characterful private
villa, Baraka House, up the coast from Mombasa. She heads a team that
includes ex-Paras as personal trainers, nutritionists who give cookery
demonstrations and holistic therapists who offer everything from dance
therapy to counselling.
During a nine-day kick-start programme, up to 14 guests get to experience
Tara’s take on triathlons — a swim in the Indian Ocean, followed by some
boogie-boarding and a run through beautiful, butterfly-filled forests. There
are also jogs along elephant tracks and sprints over the sand dunes of
stunning Watamu beach.
Do it: nine days start at £2,205pp, full-board, including
flights, transfers and activities. Call 0845 056 8343 or visit
www.wildfitness.com.
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