There's a scene in Casino Royale in which a buffed-up Daniel Craig as James
Bond emerges dripping wet from the sea in the Bahamas clad only in skimpy
trunks, to general admiration from womankind.
A similar thing happened to me when I was in St Lucia earlier this year. I
emerged from the translucent Caribbean waters in my old faithful Marks &
Sparks swimmers and there was definitely groaning from some of the fairer
sex on the beach. Except, unfortunately, it wasn’t in a good way and, if you
could hear above the sound of the lapping waves, I think there was a bit of
sniggering mixed in there, too.
“Give us your body for a week and we’ll give you back your mind,” says the
blurb for the BodyHoliday at LeSport. Given my midwinter body, it was a
shame I couldn’t spare a month.
The leafy, well-landscaped resort, situated on the north coast of the island
in its own bay, a 90-minute drive over twisting roads from the international
airport, is an all-inclusive resort attracting mainly British guests who
come for the impressively large range of activities on offer.
Up a steep flight of steps near the main reception is an Arabic-inspired
pavilion that harbours an outdoor pool and massage area, hydrotherapy room,
small gym and two floors of treatment rooms where guests come for a daily
pummelling at the hands of some rather stern masseuses. There is an aerobics
and yoga studio, too, where classes with rather scary names such as Cardio
Sculpt and Ultimate Circuit (good quality instruction, I thought), as well
as t’ai chi and Pilates, take place.
Near by there is golf and tennis, and waterskiing and scuba diving, all
included, although dives farther out to sea incur a charge.
Living as I do in London – where if you have a good idea about doing
something, 10,000 others have had it first – I rather feared having to set
the alarm for 5am to sign up for classes and book a place for a spin behind
the speedboat, but it was never really a problem. If ever there was a slight
wait (waterskiing, for example) it was hardly a chore to pass 15 minutes on
the beach with a fruit punch in hand.
This is no bikini boot camp, however, despite a posse of twenty to
fortysomething yummy mummies marching around purposefully after breakfast
clad in their postworkout Lycra. Andrew Barnard, the young manager (who does
ultra-marathons in Africa and across the Gobi Desert in his spare time),
doesn’t even like the word spa, preferring “wellness holiday”. While the
daily buffets do contain plenty of healthy options, I was pleasantly
surprised on my first evening to see bananas being flambéed in rum with
liberal scoops of ice-cream on the side. A good balance of protein and
calcium, I told myself, as I helped myself to seconds.
Although it’s not designed as a resort for singles, a significant minority of
its clients do come on their own (there are 29 single rooms), and on some
weeks, I’d been told, there’s a big imbalance of women to men. Could the
future Mrs Hide be out there? Damn, where’s a six-pack when you need one?
Things didn’t get off to a good start on day one. There’s a communal table in
the main dining room, but either I’d arrived too late or too early because
there was no one on it and I sat there like Billy No-Mates. It was as if I
was the new boy at school who has started term late and everyone already
knows each other. Later, I sat on my sunbed on the beach while, over to the
left, laughter emanated from among the cluster of chairs on which were
draped a tanned group of thirtysomethings. I’d come to meet Bo Derek, but at
this rate I’d have been happy just to chat to Derek from Bow.
But that evening, after I’d had an hour-long massage, swum in the sea, had a
work out with Felix the personal trainer, been for a water-ski and attended
my first yoga class – no mean feat for officially the world’s least bendy
person, and actually quite good fun – it all changed. At dinner in the more
upscale and elegant Tao restaurant, I was seated on the communal table and
met London-based Canadian Malcolm Heston.
We chatted about his dotcom start-up, and afterwards in the bar he introduced
me to Helen, who’s in PR and here with her mate Nicky, who had met Jo (in
IT) and her Irish friend Mary, who were sitting next to Barry and Annie from
Northampton . . . and soon everyone was chatting like long-lost friends.
“I’ve been here before with a girlfriend,” said Malcolm, 40, on his own this
time. “It’s a great place to rejuvenate. I’ve recharged my batteries,
destressed, had a laugh, tried a new sport and got some sun.”
What about the ratio of women to men? He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment
further, although another male guest described his previous weeks as “like
shooting fish in a barrel”. But to me, this certainly didn’t seem anything
like a Club 18-30style hook-up joint. Rather, friendships were being made,
flirting being done, e-mail addresses being exchanged and meetings arranged
for when back in the UK.
“Oh, don’t mention the yoga, just talk about the golf and waterskiing. We need
more rugby boys,” lamented Charlotte Boucher from Lymington in Hampshire,
when I asked her about the facilities, clearly feeling the calibre of gent
on offer could do with a bit of beefing up.
“There’s so much to do, but no pressure. It’s up to you how much you join in
and how much you do on your own,” said her sunbathing friend Sally Webster,
an HR director from the Wirral. “I’ll come again, and I’d come on my own,
and I’m not the sort of person who normally would. It just feels safe and
you meet people easily.”
That’s not to say there wasn’t some low-key grumbling. Some guests said that
the rooms were tired, with a distinctly Eighties feel, and in need of an
update. A renovation programme has started, and because the work was behind
schedule, some holidaymakers were asked to relocate to the sister property,
Jalousie Plantation, an hour away and very different from LeSport. The
inconvenience was eased considerably by speedboat transfers and the offer of
a free stay next time.
Minor grumbles aside, it was a fun week and I can see why people come back for
more – a mix of veg-out meets workout, healthy salads accompanied by
not-so-healthy “what the heck I’m on holiday” quantities of booze and plenty
of good friendships made.
As for romance during the week, well, despite my best James Bond impression,
my licence to thrill seemed to have been well and truly revoked. I blame the
Marks & Sparks trunks.
Need to know
Caribtours (020-7751 0660, www.caribtours.co.uk)
offers one week at all-inclusive The BodyHoliday at LeSport, St Lucia, from
£1,665pp in a Single Garden Room. This includes return flights on Virgin
Atlantic from Gatwick or Manchester, private transfers and most activities.
