Revival Stories: inside Devon’s most transformative wellness retreat

Wellness

Revival Stories: inside Devon’s most transformative wellness retreat

Emilie Hall checks in to Yeotown Devon for a truly regenerative-travel break as a frazzled mum-of-two and leaves with unironic goddess ideations

Emilie Hall

BY Emilie Hall27 January 2025

There’s a quote currently doing the rounds by author and psychologist Nicola Jane Hobbs, from her book The Relaxed Woman. To paraphrase, it states: ‘Growing up, I never knew a relaxed woman. At-ease women? Women who prioritise rest and pleasure and play? Women who give themselves unconditional permission to relax? I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman like that.’ And every time I see it, I think — with all due respect to Nicola — that I actually know nine of them. I can picture them now: sitting around a fireplace, their eyes creased in laughter, their foreheads unlined with worry and their cheeks rosy from exposure to the Exmoor winds. These nine relaxed, happy, pleasure-seeking women were my fellow detox-ers at Yeotown in Devon.

(I must caveat here that Yeotown is certainly not just for women — many men do go. However, the week that I went, the retreat was being co-hosted by the brilliant Anna Murphy, fashion director of The Times, who was there to share her fashion and beauty secrets. So I suppose the Y chromosome was filtered somewhat.)

We didn’t arrive relaxed, of course. Or, at least, I certainly didn’t. I have a toddler and a six-month-old, so I’ll leave you to picture my life’s current chaos. Suffice to say that my son’s toast crusts and a handful of Smarties had become a balanced breakfast. Lunch was often a Coke Zero chugged in the nappy aisle at the big Tesco.

My very kind mother, sensing that everyone in my life might benefit from me looking and acting less like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings, asked if I’d like to join her at a famed health retreat renowned for soothing stressed-out souls. The prospect of a five-day, child-free sojourn was radical. I mean, a car journey without the Moana soundtrack was holiday enough as far as I was concerned. So, with a mix of guilt and elation, I handed the children to their shell-shocked father — ‘You’ll have reception, won’t you?’; ‘What do they eat?’ — and we set off for the deep North Devon countryside.

Could this place really deliver on its promise of making me ‘strong in body, clear in mind’ in just five days? Me, who was 50% Dairy Milk and 50% Coca Cola? I was looking forward to finding out, choosing to put my trust in the ‘Yeotox’ programme (as they’ve dubbed it) that has been honed week after week over nearly 15 years by its founders, husband-and-wife team Simon and Mercedes Sieff.

The word ‘detox’ conjured images of a cold and sanitary environment, doctors in white lab coats and a single cube of carrot bobbing in clear broth. However, as we finally pulled off the winding countryside lanes and into Yeotown’s bucolic setting, I could see that this was infinitely more nature-filled and friendly. The main farmhouse was white and ivy-covered, surrounded by rolling grounds, orchards and herb gardens. So far, so quaintly English. But the Buddha statues in the courtyard, the smell of incense and the daunting sight of an outdoor gym soon punctured the traditional country-house image.

My bedroom — named ‘Kindness’ — was one of three upstairs in the main house. Scandi in style, it was calming and cosy, with whitewashed walls, wide wooden floorboards and a come-hither faux-fur throw at the end of the bed. The other eight rooms are dotted about in outbuildings, the Eco Lodges being particularly luxurious, with their A-frame ceilings, oak-panelled walls and super-king-size beds.

For our first lunch, we gathered expectantly around the enormous wooden refectory table in the open-plan kitchen and dining room. After our long journey, my heart leapt when chef Louise placed a steaming quinoa Tex-Mex bowl with purple tortilla chips, mango salsa and guacamole in front of me. It was generously portioned and suitably warming for mid-November, putting all my bunny-food anxieties at ease.

You won’t find gluten, dairy, meat or sugar on Yeotown’s menu, but you will not go hungry. I looked forward to every meal and we all came to love quizzing Louise about her home-brewed kefir or the immunity-boosting seeds and powders she sprinkled into our smoothies, soups and salads. She produced warming curries with daal, sticky cauliflower wings with coconut rice, and, once, some pancakes of such a vivid blue hue that Wonka himself would have been proud (although these were the result of blue spirulina, rather than candy). There were even potatoes! And pudding: baked figs with sticky date sauce being my personal favourite.

After our first lunch, Yeotown’s founders, Simon and Mercedes, welcomed us and gave us an overview of what we could expect during the days ahead. I zoned out a little bit here because I was staring — they both had the kind of sunbeam-bright inner radiance that only the truly healthy can possess. Mercedes is one of the UK’s leading Vinyasa-flow yoga instructors and a positive psychology coach, while Simon is an avid surfer and yoga teacher, too. I looked at them and thought, ‘I’ll have what they’re having.’

Then it was time for our first hike. If you’re aiming to change lives in less than a week, it helps to have some come-to-God scenery on your side, and Yeotown is just a short drive from some of England’s most enchanting vistas. Each day of the programme involves a two- to three-hour walk on either the wild Atlantic coastline or the rugged wilds of Exmoor.

Our hiking guide was the lovely Mo. He’s an ex-military man, but there’s no trace of drill sergeant about him. Having said that, he is rather keen to get you walking fast enough and uphill enough so that you’re in your ‘anaerobic zone’.

‘But, Mo, how will I know if I’m in my anaerobic zone?’ I asked.

‘You won’t be able to talk so much,’ he replied.

‘And will there be a chocolate-biscuit reward when I get up there?’ I gestured to the top of the hill, but Mo was already bounding away out of earshot.

This part of Devon is so wild and remote that we walked for miles (and miles) but hardly saw another soul on the coastal paths or the wide, sandy beaches. As we put one hiking boot in front of another, our eyes feasted on expanses of sea, dramatic headlands, gnarled old forests and quaint Victorian villages.

As beautiful as it all was, it was just as joyous to arrive back at the homestead, where a reviving post-hike drink of orange cacao was pushed into my hands, and the fireplace was roaring in the snuggly sitting room. That night, I slept the sound, virtuous kind of sleep that only fresh air and physical exhaustion can produce.

The next day, Thursday, we came down to breakfast to see that, while the daily menu was printed for all to see, we couldn’t get a straight answer out of anyone about the day’s activities. ‘Are we doing yoga after this?’ Cryptic eyebrow raise. ‘Is the hike in the morning or the afternoon?’ Sly smile.

I came to see that Yeotown has a policy of secrecy around the specifics of the itinerary. I found this cloak-and-dagger approach a bit off-putting at first, but soon I realised that, actually, it’s a stroke of genius. It’s incredibly relaxing to be led, because there’s no time for second guessing — you just arrive and begin. Although it was strange to surrender control and go with the flow, I can’t tell you what a balm it was for my overstimulated brain to be completely present and unable to give any thought to what might be coming next.

They kindly ask that reviewers don’t give too much of the game away, either. What I am allowed to tell you is that every day at Yeotown will involve some combination of all-abilities yoga with Mercedes, strength training, stretching, a brisk walk with Mo, mindfulness sessions and, for every full day you’re there, a blissful evening massage.

You might also be learning about the healing powers of cold-water immersion. I couldn’t possibly comment.

One of my favourite aspects of the retreat was the digital detox that just happened naturally as a by-product of being so busy, so present and, in the evenings, so tired that I fell asleep without wanting my usual bedtime scroll. The days quickly passed, filled with yoga, eating, hiking and — when not in our anaerobic zone — lots of talking. Conversation ranged from motherhood to matcha, break-ups to Victoria Beckham eyeliner. Mercedes had mentioned that groups of erstwhile strangers often leave Yeotown with an intense bond and our group was no different. Our ‘Yeo-Yeos’ WhatsApp group hasn’t stopped pinging and we have plans to meet up for something stronger than adaptogenic mushroom lattes in the near future.

On Sunday, during our final morning mindfulness session in the yoga studio, we were told to picture ourselves as goddesses rising out of a pool out of water, reborn. A few days earlier, I would have rolled my eyes hard enough to cause muscle strain. And now I could picture it. I did feel goddess-like (no giggling, please). I felt strong, powerful, peaceful. I could tell then that Yeotown was no ordinary reboot. It was an entire system upgrade for mind and body.

But now that I’m home, I’ve discovered a flaw in the programme, because I’m having deeply ironic withdrawals from the detox itself. What should I do about my new compulsion for huge lungfuls of fresh Devon air? How do I scratch the itch to submerge myself in wild water, preferably in single-digit temps? I suppose the only remedy is to fall right back off the wagon, and book again as soon as possible.

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