Health resorts often offer activities such as mountain hikes,but enjoying each other’s company is just as satisfying.iStock
I arrived on a recent weekend with some friends,unsure of where it fell on the health resort spectrum. Would I be able to Wordle? Would they ask me to stow my phone away in pursuit of mindfulness? What if the menu was mostly beans and lentils? I just hoped there’d be croissants.
However,I soon found I didn’t need to hide my phone;in fact,the staff were delighted to take photos of our party from multiple angles until the right one was found for Instagram.
There were two restaurants,and both overflowed with extravagant options. One,at the hotel’s main lodge,served a four-course dinner,and while the apple crumble was a tad half-hearted,the rest of the experience was anything but.
The other restaurant,located at the top of the mountain in a renovated fire tower,was more casual,with pizzas at midday and pastas – including an indulgent bowl of macaroni cheese smothered in grated truffle – in the evening. There were plenty of croissants,and they weren’t even wholemeal.
I,too,donned athleisure,although my experience was more “leisure” than “ath”.
The unofficial uniform of Mountain guests seemed to be all things technical:fleeces,yoga pants,zip-up shells. I,too,donned athleisure,although my experience was more “leisure” than “ath”. Still,I noticed most diners arrived at the fire tower with ruddy cheeks and muddy hiking boots,suggesting they walked up the mountain rather than careening merrily along in one of the supplied golf carts.
One morning,I did manage to attend a 9am hip-opening session in the fitness facility,which offered a spectacular view over the blue mountain crests.
The occasional eagle soared by as a nice man named Phil,dressed in very expensive-looking hiking pants,explained to the group we should be rolling tennis balls under our glutes a few times a week. This would release us from tightness and tension. Perhaps,Phil seemed to imply,it would even release us from tax returns. I instantly made the kind of promise you make to yourself on holiday – that I would do these exercises every day – and then promptly forgot all about them the minute I got home. Poor hips.
By the end of the weekend,I suspected almost everyone at the Mountain was more active than my friends and me,and that included the 1500 or so black bears who call the Smokies home. At check-in,we were warned that the bears are out at this time of year as they prepare for their winter hibernation. “If you go for a walk,talk loudly and clap,” suggested the host,as though this would be a departure from our normal behaviour together.
But while there were dozens of trails to explore,we were really just there to enjoy each other’s company – and besides,the expanse of mist through hickory trees we saw from our room was mesmerising enough to stare at for hours. Green juice drinker I am not,but I can’t help but think the weekend I spent at Blackberry Mountain made me well all the same.
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