The quest for tranquility in the world’s least tranquil place can lead you to unexpected places. On a baking-hot Glastonbury day, I am sitting in a 90C sauna surrounded by 10 naked strangers.
My journey began on Friday. While Lorde is playing a crammed secret set at the Woodsies stage, I’m over at Humblewell – a somewhat smaller tent – with 50 people who couldn’t care less about the buzz. We lie on mats and parched grass, eyes closed, breathing deeply, legs moving in unison under the orders of the yoga teacher, Dina. A bassy soundtrack distracts from the many sounds outside competing for our attention. If it wasn’t for the bucket hats, you wouldn’t know you were at Glastonbury. I fold into a child’s pose and feel a deep sense of release.
Not many people come to Worthy Farm for peace and quiet. It is, after all, a place where 24/7 sensory overload seems inescapable. I have left two noisy children at home, and while I am looking forward to lots of loud music and dancing, I also need some chill time. I would hazard a guess that most attenders crave a bit of tranquility at some point over the weekend, if only between the hours of 4am-7am, when distant thuds and campsite chatter finally cease.
Thankfully, there is inner peace to be found. The Retreat Yurt, next door to the yoga class, is packed full of weary people indulging in much-needed meditation. The session facilitator, Dan Peppiatt, gives gentle encouragement and plays a selection of instruments along to a soundscape recorded at the Cornish woodland where he lives off-grid. Occasionally, Arran Burton joins in on a selection of handcarved wooden flutes. I am close to drifting off when someone accidentally elbows me.
“We offer a space for people to stop,” says Peppiatt after the session. “A lot of them come to have a snooze.” “We will be back tomorrow,” says MJ Ascenzo, who has come to the festival from Manchester. “It’s the perfect start to the day,” she adds, before heading off to find some breakfast.
On a nearby hill, a series of brightly coloured hammocks are a shady spot for some respite. I pull myself into one and eye the guy next to me with envy: he has the right idea, sound asleep with an eye mask and noise-cancelling headphones. I try to relax, but every time someone gets off a hammock, it feels as though mine is about to snap.
My next stop is the Healing Fields, the OG of Glastonbury wellness. Here you can try tai chi, join a harmonised singing group or sample an array of massages and treatments. I eat some falafel, resist the urge to get a tarot reading and take a moment to pause in the neighbouring peace garden, which at noon is blissfully serene – perhaps less so at midnight, given its proximity to the late-night haven the Stone Circle.
In a corner of the Tipi Field, I find people who really are letting go. Lost Horizon, the “nomadic spa”, has been a fixture at the festival for 15 years. Offering a sauna in a yurt and, crucially, a shower afterwards, visitors can buy a single entry, or a pass for the day or weekend (£15/£30/£50). Having a shower on site can involve a long queue, so this is a smart investment.
That said, a sauna is a challenge on a hot day. And, alarmingly, this is a clothing-optional area. To one side of the area there is a huge trampoline, where naked adults are jumping. Jenna Brocklehurst from Somerset is running the sauna, and tells me that last night they hosted a ceilidh in the buff.
“It is a sanctuary,” says Clive Phillips from Goa, covering himself up with a sarong. “An oasis of calm in an often crazy experience.” A partly clothed band provides entertainment for the spa-goers, many of whom are lying in the garden between sessions, making the most of the slightly less frenetic vibe. “It’s not what I expected,” says Carol from Bristol, who likes to try something new each time she attends. “It is a bit of grass with sweaty people on it.” She recommends trying a laughing yoga class, although she thinks she got Covid from doing it here last year.
As I enter the sauna semi-clad, I seriously question my life choices. But then the Green Fields choir circle the yurt, serenading those sweating inside. When I come out, I feel refreshed and renewed – and very grateful for a cold shower.
As Alanis sings later: “I’ve never felt this healthy before.” I retreat to a gong bath and fall into a deep sleep. It is possible to find peace at Glastonbury – you just have to look in the right places.