Taking the waters and sorting out our sleep at Terme di Saturnia spa retreat in Italy

Catherine Fairweather checks into an iconic thermal spring spa retreat in Tuscany for an intensive restorative programme and finds the care she needs for a straight ten hours’ sleep each night for the first time in decades  

‘In the dark night of the soul it’s always 3am’, writes F Scott Fitzgerald, one of nature’s owls, vividly conjuring the insomniacal restlessness that always accompanies a relapse of my chronic inflammatory gut disease. Desperate for rest and a reset, my hope is that a spell at mineral-rich hot springs, tapped at source, will settle my system, and restore sleep and sanity.

Saturnia’s sulphurous healing waters are legendary; a place of body and soul pilgrimage ever since Roman legionnaires recuperated here on the homewards march from battle, along the adjacent Via Clodia. When I worked in Rome as a graduate, taking the waters in Saturnia was a ritual of courtship and a rite of passage, even if it was a two-hour drive away.

We would strip at the waterfalls of the local Cascate del Muline, wallowing by moonlight in the natural pools carved into travertine terraces. I love that bathing here is the ultimate democratic pastime, then and now, open to all, and free of charge. Since my graduate days, progress has come in the shape of the eponymous, grand resort and spa complex, just a short stroll away; the largest in Italy, at 20,000 square metres. It charges from only 29 euros a day for use of the four hot spring pools with balneotherapy, whirlpools and Kneipp paths - with extra costs for the compulsory white robes.

I check in as a hotel guest to benefit from an intensive restorative programme, and to get exclusive access to the resort lake, at the water’s source, bubbling like a giant cauldron, enveloped in sulphurous vapours and wisps of steam. The adjoining private clubhouse, the Casale, is a place where I will spend much of my downtime; practising stillness, retraining myself to just ‘be’. I prefer this space to my bedroom suite - which comfortable though it is - could be any anonymous hotel suite. Instead, I extend the relaxation therapy of the thermal soak, with a deep sweat in the sauna and a snooze in the meditation rooms with its veiled circular ‘cocoon’ daybeds and heavenly-scented hay wall.

“Cocooning is a big thing here, and I found no sense of the self-denial or deprivation of traditional cures. Rather, when people are not resting and decompressing in the relaxation rooms, there’s a pervasive festive atmosphere which feels life-affirming”

‘Cocooning’ is a big thing here, and I found no sense of the self-denial or deprivation of traditional cures. Rather, when people are not resting and decompressing in the relaxation rooms, there’s a pervasive festive atmosphere which feels life-affirming, despite the over-polished marble decor, manicured golf environs, and the stiff sculptural flower arrangement in the public spaces. I’m surrounded by well-heeled Italians and extended families oozing style and health, who laugh and chat as they bob about in the waters.

In my gown and slippers, on an empty stomach, along with some others on a detox, I sip the brutal liver-cleansing spring waters, while fellow guests, togged up in their cashmere, down cocktails. We all toast the jazz pianist and crooner - the weekend’s live entertainment at the bar. I ignore the magnificent breakfast buffet where everyone oohs and aahs over the cornucopia of cheeses and breads. But I do relish the lively hum in the restaurant at dinner, an enthusiastic appreciation of the excellent local wine list, truffle risotto and grilled meats. My detox plant-based diet - delicious celeriac soup and local griddled zucchini and lemon shavings - is no penance.

I also spend hours on the complimentary e-bikes, exploring the historic mountain towns of Southern Tuscany, almost my favourite element of the retreat. And I love my naturopathy sessions with the brilliant Laura Quinti, former healer to Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich and Chelsea Football Club. She specialises in family counselling and psychophysical health through alternative therapies, including iridology and sound therapy. The latter performed with a monochord, syncs to - and moderates the vibration of - your brain waves, putting you into a deep hypnotic state of relaxation. The combination of this, and night wallows in thermal springs, results for the first time in decades, in a straight ten hours’ sleep each night.

On my detox programme, following medical check-ups to measure fat and muscle mass, I also enjoyed the treatments that aid and abet the process. There is the soothing Ulivitas massage with warm olive oil and a basil scrub that assists lymphatic drainage and better circulation, and the signature Saturnia Detox, a back-to-the-womb swaddling in white clay, which has sweat pouring out in rivulets, and eliminates water retention.

As it happens, I lost almost a couple of kilos in the three days. But I would return for the blissful stupefaction of the thermal baths experience, the lovely location and jolly atmosphere of the resort alone. Perhaps next time I’d bring my husband, who has never knowingly been sold a diet or visited a spa, but who would surely enjoy the wine list. Above all, I would return for Saturnia’s greatest gift - the blessing of long undisturbed sleeps.