How many massages is too many? I clock up seven in twelve days and, frankly, it feels like I’m just getting into my stride. I begin to wonder if I should push on — double figures feels like a personal growth milestone. Mind you, after the Indian head massage, which was sublime, I come away looking like I swam through the Exxon Valdez oil slick. I need to shampoo my hair no fewer than six times. 

I’m at CC’s Hideaway, a small, low-key hotel perched on a hill behind the chaos of Phuket’s western beaches. Down below: jet skis, beach bars, wall to wall umbrellas and the raucous throb of sunburned tourists. Up here: birdsong, sea views, and me scheduling another massage. 

This place provides opportunities to engage in everything from high action: eco adventures, island trips, kayaking, kick boxing, zip lining, to gentler pursuits such as massage and spa treatments, yoga, meditation, visiting offshore island beaches, and aligning your chakras – which you probably don’t even know are out of whack.

It’s possible to book the hotel and pay as you go for activities. I go for the all inclusive Yoga Holiday, which gives the illusion I’m focusing on my health. Each day I decide whether to go active or go slow.  Spoiler alert – go slow is a very attractive option, especially as every day is about 32 degrees.  There’s a yoga class in the morning, another at sunset. Some classes are on the beach, which sounds idyllic until you realise it’s hot, tricky to balance, and sunblock attracts sand like iron filing to a magnet.  I prefer my exfoliation in the comfort of a spa room. 

Day one is a slow one: swimming in the pool; a private yoga lesson, where after 28 years I learn a few things – after all, they call it yoga practice; the best massage I’ve ever had; and an evening restorative yoga session. 

Next day, action woman. It’s the 4 elements adventure: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. The earth is advertised as “a trek to Ao Yon Waterfall through the lush jungle of Phuket to discover the hidden beauty of the Waterfall. This trek offers the perfect mix of nature, tranquility, and adventure as you walk through the forest, feeling the Earth beneath your feet, breathing in the fresh air, and reaching the serene waterfall”. I’d describe it more as a half hour stumble up a rocky dry riverbed through dusty forest to a trickle more like a leaky tap. It hasn’t rained in a while. 

Now, I love a zip line, flying through the air suspended by a carabiner attached to a washing line. First run? A bit short. Second run? Bit longer. Wind in my hair. Third run? Bring on the big guns. I’m basically Bear Grylls. Well, maybe not, because I wasn’t expecting a high cable walk. Across a single wire with a higher one to hold – or grip for dear life.  I shuffle across. Yes, there’s photographic proof. Luckily it’s of my back so you can’t see the whites of my eyes. 

Then a wobbly net – is there any other kind when it’s suspended above the jungle?  This leads to a drunken zebra crossing, comprising sliding, zigzag planks designed by someone who hates ankles. Please, I beg, tell me the rest is all zip line? “No, madam. More climbing.” At this point my legs are trembling like I’ve just played two hours of squash and topped it off with 50 squats. I make the executive decision to retire from extreme sports forever, unclip myself with what little dignity remains, and retire to my natural habitat – the bar. 

After lunch – the fire aspect, and fortunately I’m a world champion at eating – we go to Ao Yon beach, ”a peaceful beach to unwind and experience the Water element. You can relax on the soft sand, listen to the sound of the waves, and enjoy the cool ocean breeze.”

As nice as this is initially, it becomes an unexpected second fire element when one of our group steps on a sea urchin, and another one on something even more toxic.  The sound of the waves gives way to shrieks and sobbing and next minute we’re in a mad dash to a hospital, 30 mins away. The poor woman is in agony: sweaty, heart racing, tingling up her leg and crying in pain.

Our guide stays with her at the ED and we next see her four hours later, limping and bandaged, clutching pain killers and antibiotics, but with an excellent vacation story with which to regale friends and family. She spent the first three hours lying in a corridor with staff ignoring her, so it’s just like ED at home. From this day forth I wear reef shoes every time I venture near the ocean.

And so the days drift by in a haze of smoothies and good intentions. I’m enthusiastic about a trip to a “desert island.” Desert implies deserted, but in this case  it’s only a 10-minute longtail boat ride so, not so deserted. Undeterred, we march heroically across to the other side and discover an uninhabited stretch of sand, complete with trees thoughtfully providing shade for the impressive mountain range of plastic waste artfully scattered along the shore. Ahhh Paradise. Lost. 

In the interest of regaining my sense of adventure, I decided to try aerial yoga. How hard could it be? It’s just yoga, but in a hammock. Suspended. In the air. By fabric. 

We start with some stretches, hoisting a leg into the hammock and engaging in a series of contortions, which I’m sure you have to pay for at a BDSM house. Getting into the hammock requires engaging your core, the precursor for which is having a core. After a small but committed wrestling match with the silk, I resemble laundry aggressively flung over a fence during a storm.

Then came the inversions. I know my limits and draw the line when the instructor tells us we’re going for the “chicken roll”, which is nothing to do with food and requires complicated wrapping of various limbs, all of which I prefer to keep. I resist her insistence I challenge myself, preferring to keep my appendages where they were set at birth. 

While I demur at the prospect of the splits (Good God I’m nearly 70 and couldn’t do it at 17), I manage to impersonate a butterfly – I believe I might be ready to audition for Cirque de Soleil. Right up til I attempt to dismount. Then I am a newborn giraffe. Would I do it again? Probably, if only to prove the hammock doesn’t win.

If staying another week I’d likely do a cooking class, maybe an eco printing workshop, try another island trip that includes biking and kayaking, possibly even join a fermentation workshop. I suspect the Muay Thai kickboxing is beyond me, but I’d definitely have another few massages.