Marlise Kast-Myers | Tribune News Service
Before I married my husband Benjamin, I used to make ambitious New Year's resolutions that ended up as disappointments. I aimed for big goals like publishing books and running marathons, but it only led to tiredness and missing deadlines. Benjamin, who is realistic, taught me to forget calendar-driven goals and find motivation within myself.
However, that changed recently.
Approaching 2024, we were exhausted from juggling four jobs and relied on coffee and late nights. Strangely, we were drawn to taking on more than necessary because we are self-motivated.
So, we decided to change our approach and wrote down the words: "Relax. Rest. Recover. Reconnect. Rejuvenate. Restore."
Our aim was to go away for four days and come back feeling new and improved.
Arizona was the chosen destination due to its proximity to San Diego, and we had heard about two resorts with the ability to reset our lives.
We planned to start our journey to wellness at CIVANA Wellness Resort & Spa in the Sonoran Desert, followed by continued healing at Castle Hot Springs in the Bradshaw Mountains. We dedicated two nights to each resort to disconnect from the world and reconnect with ourselves.
We prioritized simplicity over budget and flew via JSX hop-on jet service. As first-time passengers, we discovered that this public charter flew to over 40 destinations, including Scottsdale. There were no security lines, crowded terminals, or hidden fees, and we could arrive just 20 minutes before takeoff. The $279 ticket price included cocktails, Wi-Fi, business-class legroom, and oversized baggage. We certainly had a lot of baggage (figuratively, of course).
The past year had been tough, and our Arizona trip didn't start well.
Unfortunately, the car rental agency claimed to have run out of vehicles. We waited for over two hours, hoping for a car to take us to our destination.
I was on edge and close to losing my temper, which would make my husband walk away. I decided to take matters into my own hands and managed to get a car from the parking garage. However, just five minutes later, we were stopped on suspicion of car theft.
We had to go back to the airport and wait another 45 minutes for a car that cost twice the original price. This led to a heated argument. To add to the frustration, we received a message from our house sitter informing us that our pet turkey had gone missing.
I was torn between anger and sadness and couldn't find the words to express how I felt. We were stuck in traffic, hadn't eaten, and my pre-booked meditation class was starting in five minutes.
So, I clenched my fists and yelled out loud.
“Well, this is definitely starting off well,” Benjamin said.
Everything I had tried to calm down was bubbling up, and now all I wanted to do was wash away the day.
Somehow, CIVANA sensed that, welcoming me with a pool where I swam laps alone at sunset.
In just a few minutes, I could feel the stress dripping off my body. The setting certainly helped, a 1960’s mid-century modern hotel in a town appropriately named Carefree.
Initially designed by Frank Lloyd Wright’s apprentice, Joe Wong, the property was revived in 2018 as CIVANA Wellness Resort. The $40 million dollar facelift was thorough, with 144 neutral-toned rooms in stone, wood, and glass reflecting the desert.
Never did I anticipate cactuses to be so visually calming, reaching toward the marbled sky and blending into the starry night. Extending from the 20-acre resort were pebble-bordered trails that led to the café, restaurant, fitness studios and 22,000-square-foot spa.
Bravely launching during the pandemic, CIVANA is clearly the trendy choice, attracting wellness-focused millennials with its price and the belief that self-love is acceptable.
Evidently, women received the message. Bachelorette parties, girls getaways and sister retreats left my husband saying, “I feel very alone.”
In my opinion, that was actually the intention, for us to be (or at least feel) alone in our united solidarity. CIVANA went out of its way to do that through their principles of discovery and nourishment. Starting with the latter, we dined at Terras with mouths wide open during dinner of eggplant hummus, seared scallops and Faroe Island salmon.
“I think I need some carbs,” I whispered.
The vegetable-focused menu had gluten free, grain free, dairy free and other “free” (not to be mistaken for “complimentary”) options; an entrée alone costs about $50, but with the resort perks, the price doesn’t seem so burdensome.
Bikes, hiking trails, wellness guides, aqua therapy and over 100 movement, personal growth and spiritual classes are included in the $500+/- nightly rate. I chose yoga, cardio strength and “Band and Buns” while Benjamin relaxed with breathwork, meditation and sound-healing.
In true “us” form, we filled our schedules with classes and spa treatments. Of course, there were gardens and labyrinths to calm the mind, open the heart and ground the body. Benjamin explored them. I did not, because I was too busy running to my next class. Like students on campus, we would wave in passing or meet up for lunch over smoothies and antioxidant bowls.
Shaking my empty water bottle, I tapped my forehead.
“I already feel so hydrated. … Oh, look, they have hard Kombucha!”
Despite our intentions, we were on vacation after all — a time to let go, raise a glass, and toast to the fact we were reaping the benefits of our environment. Others got it, eating breakfast in bathrobes, sipping post-spa margaritas and skipping workouts when suffering and leisure no longer aligned.
I felt a bit unhappy to leave CIVANA, just having woken up a better version of myself. As we packed the car for Castle Hot Springs, I felt healthy, alive and ready for what was coming next. During the hourlong drive, we passed spiky saguaro cactuses, wild donkeys and a world of Winnebagos. Tumbleweeds rolled across desert plains, as if each one had a destination and a deadline.
“Did they film ‘Breaking Bad’ here?” I asked.
My husband didn’t answer, but instead mumbled something about our rental car being tested. Behind us, there was a cloud of dust, leaving behind any sign of civilization. I thought about his ability to change tires and my sudden wish to adopt a burro.
And there it was, an oasis thriving in the emptiness. Greeting us at the parking area was a valet who quickly took us via golf cart through a private gate, down a pathway lined with palm trees, to Arizona’s first luxury resort. At the center of the 1,200-acre property were pools and ponds dotting well-kept gardens and colorful lawns so perfect, you’d believe you were living in a high-tech, futuristic world.
Castle Hot Springs was created to help people improve themselves, and then relax with thoughtful activities, rugged nature, and gentle adventure. While the rates were three times higher than those of CIVANA, it offered an all-inclusive experience covering tours, meals, tips, resort fees, in-room amenities, valet, cart service, and numerous activities. Hiking, archery, paddleboarding, biking, horseback riding, pickleball, gardening, stargazing, wine-tasting, yoga — you name it, and they had a personal guide to take you from adventure to relaxation.
The best part of this place, however, is the hot springs that have been renewing spirits since 1896. From the Yavapai Tribe who soaked for medicinal reasons, to the prospectors who sold the land to the Murphy brothers for development, word spread of the healing waters and fertile soil in the Bradshaw Mountains.
The Rockefellers, Wrigleys, Vanderbilts and Roosevelts all escaped to this sanctuary of well-being, which pioneered Arizona’s first tennis courts, golf course and telephone. In 1943, it served as a military rehabilitation center for injured veterans, including future president, John F. Kennedy.
Despite its healing properties, Castle Hot Springs burned down in 1975. For over 40 years, the burnt resort sat empty, waiting for someone to revive its heart so that it might once again bring life to others. Cindy and Mike Watts came along, who first saw the land while flying over during quail-hunting season. They bought the almost empty resort for around $2 million, with only three buildings left. After a five-year historic renovation, Castle Hot Springs finally had the rebirth it deserved, now receiving praise comparable to some of the best hotels in the world.
Understandably so. Designed with luxury and relaxation in mind, 30 bungalows and cottages feature stone tubs, covered decks, telescopes and indoor-outdoor fireplaces. Each room is strategically placed at the water’s edge so you can fall asleep to the sound of the babbling creek.
Clearly, we had found our restorative place. Opening the curtains, my husband took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
“Oh look, there's a hiking trail,” I cheered from behind him.
But it was, and 17 of them to be precise. From elevated walkways and agave farms to canyon caves and mountain peaks, we explored as many as we could in between yoga, massages, biking, rock climbing and farm tours. The latter sparked an unmatched appreciation for the kitchen, where the chef and farmer work together so closely that they create the daily 4-course tasting menu.
While touring the “living pantry,” we sampled leafy greens and fragrant herbs that would later be part of the farm-to-fork dinner. With over 3 acres under cultivation, the team of agronomists harvest more than 150 types of crops each season. Nova Scotia halibut with beluga lentils or Colorado lamb with pistachio butter and sweet potato fondant? Decisions, decisions.
If only we had more time and doggie bags to take home the sensation of Castle Hot Springs every time life turned difficult. It was the kind of place that enveloped you in experiences over accommodations, memories over moments. We felt it during our bike tour, navigating through a network of single-track trails, mining roads and narrow canyons. We experienced it again during our multiple soaks in the thermal pools.
We slept soundly that night, so deeply in fact, that we woke up, and it was time to go … at noon.
Driving back to the airport, we once again sat in silence. Only this time, I wasn’t thinking about rental cars and traffic and the meditation class I was about to miss.
Instead, I was contemplating the miracle of an oasis that had endured the fires of the past to now extinguish the pain of the present. I thought about how those restorative waters had the power to pull me out of fatigue and renew me with a deeper understanding and appreciation of self-care. I considered how nourishing wellness — from the food that I eat to the hours that I sleep — is a purposeful journey, not a predetermined destination. I also thought about how two resorts in the Arizona desert revealed the importance of staying balanced in 2024, rather than simply resetting.
Taking my husband’s hand, I gave it a little squeeze. “Well,” I said, “this is certainly off to a good start.”
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Marlise Kast-Myers (marlisekast.com) is an author and journalist based in San Diego. She and her husband live at the historic Betty Crocker Estate where they run Brick n Barn (bricknbarn.com)
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