No one ever said a spot of TLC was for females only. Photo / Getty Images
It’s time to throw preconceived ideas about wellness to the curb. Dunedin’s wellbeing scene has as much to offer men as it does women, writes Alex Mitcheson.
It’s easy to think after a few days of wine tasting around the panoramic vistas of Central Otago that it’s time to head home and decompress. But wouldn’t a pithy little wellness break round things off better? With time to relax, let go and hit the reset button, I’m on the Central Otago Touring Route and heading out of Cromwell towards Dunedin. Saturated in rustic allure, boulder-strewn escarpments, and looming mountain ranges in the distance, this a meditative drive if ever there was one.
The modern character of Dunedin/Ōtepoti frames itself around a medley of Edwardian and Victorian-era architecture; the city has a grungy yet honest texture - a thin veneer of gothic grandeur sitting on a cheerful persona. Finding my way to No Name Alley, there’s already an unhurried feeling washing over me.
Access to Wild Dispensary - an award-winning herbal medicine company that uses wild, native herbs in its products - is off the same, nameless alley.
“We do our wild harvesting here around Dunedin and in Central Otago. The tonics are everyone-friendly — we’ve specifically made them that way. Can I give you a wee taste?” says Ruth Vaughan, co-founder of Wild Dispensary, as she holds out a pipette and invites me to taste. As a guy, I often feign attempts at wellness, or when I do, it involves opting for mid-strength beer and throwing a teaspoon of greens into the occasional smoothie. However, it doesn’t take long for Vaughan and her business partner, Skye Macfarlane, to demystify this sphere of knowledge that has been around for centuries. It seems whatever ailment you have, nature has a tennis volley of an answer in the form of native herbs. I’m offered the chance to make my own bitters, which I’m told will be good to sip with water, soda, or even accompany drinks such as gin and tonic. A fan of bitter flavours, I opt for dandelion, orange peel, grapefruit, and a dash of cardamom — a combination great for detoxification and, ironically, a step towards mitigating my next Friday night knockoff.
The next day, I wake to the soft sound of waves. I’m at The Longhouse on Karitane Beach, 35 minutes north of the city by car. The origins of this sustainable coastal wellness retreat lie in the 1920s when it provided sanctuary for shellshocked soldiers post-WWI. The previous night, I’d arrived by the cover of darkness; now, in the morning glow, I can see the gorgeous character of the property completely unadulterated. As I cradle a cup of tea, I meander the long corridors and admire oil paintings, lofty fiddle leaf figs, and stately mid-century furniture. I find myself in the lounge, and before I know it, I’ve sunk into a sofa, admiring a book on Māori wisdom for a contented life, while the beach vies for my attention from a large bay window.
The property regularly holds exclusive seasonal health retreats and is available for event and private hire across its six beautifully appointed en-suite bedrooms. Although there’s a discernible antiquity in the air, the entire property exudes an unquestionable warmth. And the fact there isn’t a television in sight doesn’t bother me one bit.
Lying back in my float tank at Well + Being, back in central Dunedin, I check in with my body after my 45-minute reformer Pilates class. No major complaints. In fact, the smooth and deliberate exercises on a trapeze table — which at first looked like some type of medieval torture apparatus — have already shifted a lower back niggle. With the zero-gravity condition of my current setting coming into focus, I can’t help but feel completely at ease.
With a selection of therapies at my disposal, I decide to try something different: contrast therapy. The following session is a remarkable mix of calm and struggle; going from an infrared sauna to a cold plunge for four cycles is invigorating and challenging. Towelling off from the final icy dip, I notice a shift in my state of mind. “That’ll be your endorphins. Also, what you’ve just done will be great for your immune system”, beams Poppy, a smiley staff member. I’ve managed to undertake three distinctive but complementary practices in a nudge over two hours — it appears that wellness doesn’t have to be such a life-consuming pursuit.
There’s a chance to stop by Taste Nature, Dunedin’s original health store and eatery. This is the country’s first entirely gluten-free cafe, yet it’s the vast selection of health-conscious everyday goods and foods that truly astounds. Between a delicious tempeh wrap and perfectly poured coffee, I can see why this health store-cum-supermarket-cum-cafe has been popular with locals for the past 30 years. Food like this contradicts the blokey belief that every meal should feature meat. Food for thought — quite literally.
The following morning, I peel myself away from a wicker sun chair overlooking the Huriawa Peninsula and hit the road towards Orokonui Ecosanctuary. Shrouded in mist, the 307-hectare property is a biodiversity marvel. There’s sense to the notion a morning walk is never a bad way to start the day, and out on the Kãkā track, it doesn’t take long for some mischievous namesakes to hop down from branches and tug at my shoelaces. Do I care? Not really. The stunning serenity of this protected habitat washes over me. I catch myself smiling for no reason. Could this be the first symptom of a fruitful wellness break?
For more to see and do in Dunedin, visit dunedinnz.com
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