Slogging Toward Serenity

By HARWARD, Esther

Esther Harward jettisons stress and grows limber amid the rainforest of Australia’s east coast.

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FUNNY how a few days with your feet up can make you crave stress and drama.

There we were, 14 women on a five-day yoga and detox retreat in idyllic Byron Bay on Australia’s east coast, and the hottest topic was a row with a spa therapist.

One of the group had asked to change a massage appointment, and the therapist had reportedly snapped at her. An argument developed over who was more aggrieved, ending in the therapist telling another client: “I thought you yoga people were not supposed to be aggressive.”

The argument fuelled conversation during our stay until someone pointed out it wasn’t exactly helping the stress-free aim of the five-day course.

There had been nothing much else to worry about during the retreat held at the five-star Byron at Byron resort, run by Byron Bay Yoga owner and teacher Sue Hawkins and her team of three assistants.

The programme read: twice-daily yoga sessions, meditation and generous amounts of time for swimming and lazing around.

On the first afternoon we held a “sharing circle” to say why we were there.

“I’m here because I’m stressed,” said a company executive from Melbourne, who brought her Blackberry to check sharemarket reports.

A TV aerobics instructor had mastered just about every type of gym class and wanted to add yoga to her repertoire.

I hadn’t had a holiday all summer and felt like I needed one.

Sue laid down a few guidelines: avoid alcohol, caffeine, and try to stay at the resort instead of going into the centre of Byron Bay town, a couple of hours’ drive south of Brisbane. This would maintain the nurturing environment she and her team were trying to create.

It seemed like a big ask but I vowed to give it a go, if it meant acquiring Sue’s radiance and inner calm. Her Australian twang brought to mind Kath and Kim, but there the similarity ended — where Kath is frizzy, Sue was sleek, glowing and serene.

We lay on yoga mats as Sue and her assistants guided us through deep stretches using belts, blocks and bolsters.

Sue teaches a mix of Iyengar and Hatha yoga with a few Pilates exercises for core stability. Being used to Astanga yoga — which requires just a mat and goes at a faster pace — I had wondered whether it would be a hassle getting used to using props.

But it was pleasant in the 30 degreesC heat to be lying back with a foot wrapped around a belt, one leg in the air, stretching a hamstring. (Astanga, the tutors told us later, was invented for 14- year-old boys to help them sit in meditation poses.)

Meditation was at 7am the next day. “Why get up early just to go to sleep again?” my brother had asked when I described the programme. Psychologist and meditation teacher Stephan Kahlert explained the difference. The reward of meditation was a clear, focused mind. To achieve that we were to empty our minds. If thoughts came, we were to acknowledge them and let them pass.

I fought sleep. Others admitted they were having trouble. In his non-judgmental way Stephan encouraged us to keep going. Those who already did meditation at home looked enviably rested. I wanted a focused mind but it was hard work.

We ate breakfast on a deck, with kookaburras cawing in the 18ha rainforest around the resort.

Byron has a reputation for fresh, organic food and the meals we ate in the hotel restaurant were fantastic. The kitchen is overseen by chef Matt Wild, who set up two restaurants in the town before joining the resort. Breakfast was muesli (oats soaked in orange juice) with yoghurt, various breads and freshly squeezed carrot and ginger juice. The night before we’d had hot Thai salad with tofu and sticky rice, with passionfruit, mangoes and grapes for dessert.

But you can’t please everyone. Some of the protein-oriented in the group started a food rebellion that morning over what they said were too many carbohydrates on the menu. The TV aerobics instructor asked for egg whites to replace the bread. She got support from a frustrated dieter.

Then a breakfast smoothie arrived made with ice-cream. Ice cream for breakfast? The waitress argued all smoothies had ice cream in them. Another joined the food rebellion.

IN THE afternoon we had a gentler yoga session followed by “yoga nidra” (yogic sleep), where we lay on our mats and were instructed by a recorded voice to visualise various images . . . a candle flame . . . a deer running through a forest . . . heavy rain.

The first time I lay wide awake listening to loud snoring. But on subsequent afternoons I was out like a light and staggered to dinner in a near coma. It was like being hypnotised.

The two-hour yoga class the next morning was tough. I started to dislike the belt as it forced my arms and legs into 90 degree angles, requiring a huge effort in bridges and handstands.

Afternoons were free to laze around by the pool or walk along a series of boardwalks to pristine Tallow Beach, which had ivory sand and crashing waves. The beach also had dangerous rips. Being a scaredy-cat I stayed by the pool (and was relieved I had, when the Sydney Morning Herald reported a woman was swept away to her death at the northern end of the beach the weekend after we left).

After breakfast on day three a couple of us went into town to pick up some photos. It felt a bit naughty but we felt no ill effects.

That night two huge plates of pasta arrived at the dinner table for our main course, followed by a meringue and liquor dessert. The frustrated dieter threw a wobbly.

On day four we did the morning meditation on Tallow Beach. It rained, so a few of us who were making slow progress scampered back to the hotel and tucked into breakfast.

I had expected my limbs to go like concrete overnight because we were stretching so deeply in the yoga sessions, but apart from a little stiffness they were pain-free and becoming increasingly flexible.

On the last night, some of us had a few glasses of wine at the hotel bar. After a few days of detoxing, we were toasted. The next morning’s yoga was wobbly and sweaty, and a good advertisement for not drinking.

The stressed-out executive had skipped the last yoga session — she’d almost retreated from the retreat — but looked so relaxed at lunch she was barely recognisable.

As I waved goodbye to the Byron I resolved to take a yoga break every year. I felt stronger, less stressed, and had given up coffee. Unlike past holidays there was no need to take another one to recover.

DETAILS: Four to six-day retreats in Byron Bay, Bali and Fiji cost from $950 to $2850 including accommodation, meals and classes (flights excluded). Sue Hawkins is planning a unisex retreat in New Zealand in February 2007. For more information go to: www.byronbayyoga.com

* Esther Harward is a Times journalist. She paid her own way to Australia and attended the yoga retreat courtesy of Byron Bay Yoga.

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