“Think of yourself as seaweed. Let your body go. Surrender yourself to the
flow.”
I’m in the Minerva pool at Thermae Bath Spa, preparing to imitate kelp. The
therapist, Jan Bird, fastens luminous pink floats around my ankles and
invites me to close my eyes and drape myself backwards into her arms. Soon
she is swooshing me gently through the water, my head cradled on her
shoulder, my limbs gone to liquid, my ears submerged, so that I can hear
both of our heartbeats. This is Watsu, a rather astonishing combination of
massage, t’ai chi and regression therapy.
Afterwards, wobbling back to my poolside lounger, I ask Jan what just
happened. She fixes me with a soul-boring stare: “Watsu allows you to go
into a much deeper plane of relaxation,” she says. “You only had 20 minutes,
but with more time, very deep emotions can come out. It’s like being back in
the womb.” I’m not usually receptive to the mumbo jumbo of the modern spa,
but Jan is right: the intimacy of drifting about in a stranger’s arms is
liberating. A full hour of this and I’d be dribbling and calling her “mama”.
Jan has brought Watsu with her from California to be the signature treatment
at Thermae, which will open a week tomorrow in the honey- coloured heart of
Bath’s historic spa quarter, a 60-second stroll from the city’s excavated
Roman Baths. The therapy is offered elsewhere in Britain, but without the
thermal water that bubbles up naturally under Bath at a smoking 45C.
Thermae’s other star selling-point is its bricks and mortar. Taking a dip
inside the octagonal well of the newly restored Hot Bath, its mellow 1770s
stonework topped with fluted balustrades and lit by tall sash windows, feels
a bit like bathing inside the mullioned lantern of Bath Abbey.
When Thermae Bath Spa finally opens on August 7, its bosses are hoping
prospective customers will feel those same romantic stirrings and, intrigued
by the history, be ready to pay £19 to bathe the way the ancients did — to
feel the sulphurous warmth of the sacred springs.
Hot, mineral-rich water gushes out of Bath’s bedrock at a rate of one million
litres a day, and until 30 years ago bathing in it was part of every
Bathonian’s birthright. The entire city is built on the stuff: every
colonnade and curlicue of its lush Georgian architecture, every tutu-wearing
unicyclist busking outside the Pump Room, has sprung from that single
source.
Tourism first took off when the Romans rolled up in the 1st century AD, still
sweaty from beating Boudicca. Keen to placate the Celtic tribespeople, they
merged their own goddess Minerva with the local deity Sul, naming the town
Aquae Sulis and building the biggest baths complex outside Rome. Today,
Thermae Spa’s owners also have some revolting locals to appease. The project
has been the most embarrassing tourism disaster since the Millennium Dome —
bedevilled by construction cock-ups and repeated delays, most of them paid
for by aggrieved Somerset council-tax payers. There has been peeling paint
in the pools; ceilings leaked; and vandalised glass panels had to be
replaced. The original contractor, Mowlem, was replaced long ago. The nadir
came in August 2003, when the Three Tenors turned up to “open” the new spa.
Pavarotti dipped his toe and sang in the Royal Crescent, but it has taken
three years and more than a million additional tenners to get the place in
business.
Yesterday’s co-opted Celtic goddess is today’s 15% residents’ discount. But
what will they and you get for your money? Architecturally, Nicholas
Grimshaw’s New Royal Bath building is a hotchpotch — a glass cube rising
above the facades of the city’s surviving Georgian bath houses like a giant
Glacier Mint plonked into a toffee assortment. It has a definite ocean-liner
vibe: a big stone funnel houses the spiral staircase between levels; there
are portholes instead of windows, even a life belt on the roof. Just don’t
mention the Titanic.
The complex comprises four thermal pools (two old, two new), 20 treatment
cubicles, a steam room, a yoga and Pilates studio, a restaurant and meeting
spaces. All pool water is drawn from boreholes that tap Bath’s three ancient
springs. It is UV-treated, infused with a tiny shot of chlorine and cooled
to 35C — close to body temperature — for “medical reasons”. In its raw form,
it would be just too toasty.
Like the exterior, you’ll find the interior decor is schizophrenic: think
Doctor Who visits Jane Austen’s England. The ground floor is dominated by
the Minerva Bath, and it is joltingly modern — a curvilinear inkblot of
aquamarine water, drenched in sunlight and supported by vast white pillars
shaped like upturned ear-trumpets. This is the boiler room of the big glass
liner, but instead of clanking engines, it is animated by the perpetual
rumble of spa water.
At the side, bolted on via glass walkways, are the treatment rooms, arranged
around the Hot Bath — the original Georgian whirlpool. Suddenly, you’re in
ye olde Bath again: the golden 18th-century archways remain intact, but the
treatment spaces are stark and simple: mostly done in Kashmir white granite,
turquoise tiling and frosted glass. You won’t find statues of nymphs and
muses: the spa’s designers have eschewed the Roman theme altogether and
plumped for the spartan instead.
Your standard £19 spa session buys you two hours in the Minerva pool and in
the steam room above — Tardis-like, pierced by tiny portholes, and a real
sci-fi triumph of water vapour and purple lighting.
I suspect that most spa-goers, though, will choose to beam straight up to the
rooftop pool — Thermae’s clinching attraction, where you can wallow in the
water on “bubbling air seats” as the turrets and towers of beau-monde Bath
jet up on all sides around you: the abbey lantern, the spire of St John’s
Church and the various porticoed “hospitals” built in the 1500s for people
coming to take the waters.
This smallish pool is the spa’s poster-star, about to be splashed across TV
and magazines worldwide, and it lives up to the hype — especially at night,
when the skyline is floodlit, the temperature drops, and the thermal water
begins to steam. Though what Thermae will do if all 250 visitors (the
maximum allowed in the baths) want to bathe there at once, I’m not sure.
Treatments cost extra, and they are state-of-the-art, running from Watsu to
hot-stone therapy, dry flotation, Pevonia facials and Kraxen Stove, a
steam-room-cum-stable that irradiates your extremities with Alpine hay.
What you won’t get at Thermae, for all its £35m spending splurge, are
five-star trimmings. It is not trying to compete with the Babingtons or even
the Champneys of this world: so no deep-pile carpets, no gold taps and no
post-massage fruit kebabs. Oh, and if you’re coming only to bathe, don’t
forget to bring a towel, robe and slippers (or else you’ll have to hire them
at £7.50 a pop).
There is a reason for all this, apparently, and it’s to do with that Bathonian
birthright again. History dictates it will be a “people’s spa”, tidy and
simple, just as Bath was in Roman days, when even the humblest stonemason
could afford to plunge in.
So Thermae is pinning its hopes on heritage value, and that magic healing
water. Was it worth the wait? Of course it was. Bath just wasn’t Bath
without a proper bath.
The details: Thermae Bath Spa will be open daily, 9am-10pm: book ahead
on 01225 331234, or visit www.thermaebathspa.com. A two-hour session costs
£19; four hours £29; full day £45. Treatments are extra, and start from £36
for a 30-minute thermal hydro-massage to £55 for Watsu. Various day packages
are available.
THAT'S WHERE YOU SPA: HERE'S WHERE YOU STAY
by Susan d’Arcy
FEELING FLOATY after taking the waters? Local hotels have put together
introductory spa packages to ensure you remain in the zone all the way to
check-out.
For five-star pampering, the elegant Bath Spa Hotel (0870 400
8222, www.bathspahotel.com), on the city’s outskirts, has a two-night
package with a two-hour session at Thermae, plus £80-worth of treatments at
its own new £3m spa. The deal, available until September 7, includes
breakfast, one dinner and taxis to Thermae: it costs £278pp, a saving of
£131pp.
The 18th-century Francis Hotel (0870 400 8223,
www.thefrancishotel.co.uk) is a five-minute walk from Thermae and has a
one-night dinner, B&B stay — with a two-hour session at the spa — from
£74.50pp, a discount of £70, until September 7.
Also within an easy stroll is a range of new self- catering apartments in a
listed Georgian terrace. The Serviced Apartment Company (0845
122 0405, www.sacoapartments.co.uk) has 43, opening on August 14: two-night
spa weekends are from £139pp, saving £75pp, including a four-hour pass to
Thermae. The offer runs until October 31.
The award-winning five-star B&B Oldfields Hotel (01225
317984, www.oldfields.co.uk) is about 10 minutes on foot from the spa, and
can tailor-make Thermae packages on request. No discounts, but as doubles
cost from £65 a night, it’s a bit of a bargain anyway.
For other spa breaks, check Thermae’s website on www.thermaebathspa.
com/links/spabreaks.
