The Spa Solution : Relief for the stressed-out, from low-cost to luxury : New York: A seaside pampering place to stars

“Eternally, woman spills herself away in driblets to the thirsty, seldom being allowed the time, the quiet, the peace to let the pitcher fill up to the brim.”

--Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Let’s just say my pitcher was empty. With two small children, a husband, cat, friends and any number of editors to nourish, I seemed to be pouring myself away.

I needed a place to go, a place to be quiet, to be by myself. I needed nourishing. Clearly, the time had come for me to “take the waters.”

Long before moving to California, I had dreamed of coming to a special place carved into the beach here at the very tip of Long Island: Gurney’s Inn, a posh but remote oceanfront resort with the only sea spa in North America.

Three hours from Manhattan, this end of Long Island is a lush peninsula of grassy dunes, purple peonies and scrubby pine. This is where the state of New York ends, and with it, that state of mind.

At the end of the Spanish American War, Teddy Roosevelt brought his Rough Riders to Montauk to recuperate from yellow fever and “to gallop down to the beach and bathe in the surf, or else go for long rides over the beautiful rolling plains. . . .”

Almost a century later, this is where Mick Jagger comes to recuperate from concert tours (usually at the mythical Memory Motel), and where Paul Simon writes his songs, Ralph Lauren ponders his plaids, and where Dick Cavett does whatever it is he does.

Like them, I came seeking the restorative powers of the sea. Unlike them, I was on a budget.

Years ago, as a struggling reporter for Long Island’s Newsday, I managed to live on the ocean by wintering in the fashionable Hamptons (where Lauren Bacall comes from) and summering in the Moriches (where Long Island ducklings come from). My life was a beach. But I never got to Gurney’s.

Back then, I couldn’t afford Gurney’s at all. And though it costs less than most U.S. spas, I could not easily afford it now. But weary mothers in search of a spa experience are nothing if not creative. After many phone calls and several letters to the Montauk Chamber of Commerce, I found the answer. I found the Panoramic View.

Neither a picture window nor a global philosophy--though in a way it was both--the Panoramic View is a motel with the perfect location. That is, right next door to Gurney’s. Same beach. Same breathtaking view of sea and sky. But at $60 to $150 per night, less than half the price of Gurney’s. And for just $16.50 a day, I would have full access to Gurney’s spa.

While Gurney’s Inn is 65 years old, the spa did not open until 1979 when innkeeper and Brooklyn restaurateur Nick Monte realized a personal dream of building a European-style spa.

This is the only “marinotherapeutic” spa on the North American continent, says Monte. And so, in addition to the traditional spa menu of mud wraps, massages, herbs and exercise, this spa is one of the few in the world to offer thalassotherapy (thalassa is Greek for the sea), or seawater treatments.

The sea and its curative powers are taken very seriously at Gurney’s. The eightysomething Monte drinks an ounce of seawater every morning before his 7 a.m. stroll down the beach. And there is an unquestioning commitment here to the negative ion theory of human behavior.

In this way of looking at things, one accepts that negative ions (caused by the sun’s breakdown of oxygen atoms) equal positive energy.

Those who embrace this notion know that anywhere there is a lot of water, especially in the form of waterfalls, rushing streams and crashing waves, there can be found a refreshing sense of emotional and physical well-being.

My happy time by the sea certainly confirmed this theory. Then again, the air was clean, the sand was soft and I had maid service every day. . . .

The true spa experience, a la Gurney’s, begins with the aerobic walk--or in the case of my group, the morning amble--down the beach. This may be followed by any number of other exercise regimens. Then again, it may not.

On paper, fitness classes are scheduled almost hourly throughout the day. But my first inquiry about an aerobics class discouraged me from further participation. “Is the aerobics class high-impact or low-impact?”

The young woman at the spa desk looked at me blankly and then smiled. “Oh, it’s just regular.”

In one of a dozen elaborate Gurney’s brochures, one finds this gentle advice: “Always exercise at your own pace . . . Do not hesitate to slow down when you feel you should.” Well, no pain, no pain. That’s my motto, too.

Although there are many opportunities to work up a sweat here, they are neither encouraged nor particularly popular. The weight room, for example, was empty every time I looked in except once when someone was applying lipstick in the mirror. And the Parcourse, a series of exercise stations on the beach for sit-ups and pull-ups and such, was overgrown by dune grass.

But if you like your fitness passive and your pampering thoroughly professional, then this is the place to be.

The unique promise of marinotherapy has drawn celebrities from both coasts, including Mary Tyler Moore, Cheryl Tiegs, Brooke Shields, my old neighbor Lauren Bacall and Barbra Striesand, who is warmly remembered for writing little notes to “every person who touched her.”

Although the spa attracts mostly women and offers an impressive array of cosmetic services in its Salon de Beaute, more macho spa plans such as the Executive Longevity Programme reportedly have seduced such real men as Alan Alda.

Other persons of renown who are said by Montauk people-watchers to frequent Gurney’s Inn include Al Pacino, who visited with his dog the weekend before I arrived, and John Gotti, the reputed head of New York’s Gambino family, largest of New York’s five crime organizations.

Vintage Frank Sinatra music plays all hours on the resort’s Muzak system, but he has never been here so far as anyone can say. In fact, it is not useful even to ask the staff about famous people who come here. Those who do ask are assured sweetly that everyone gets the same special treatment, no matter who they are.

As a nonresident guest of the spa, I was treated exactly like those paying for the full spa plan. I just paid as I went. My four days here as a resident guest on the Four-Day Marine Renewal Plan would have cost $343, plus the room rate, which includes meals. I spent less than half that, not counting the great Panoramic View room rate.

Because I came to take the waters, I spent most of my time in or under them. I literally drenched myself in marinotherapy.

Once a day, I swam 20 to 30 laps in the indoor pool of heated seawater. Although the Olympic-sized pool seemed cloudy to someone used to the pristine turquoise of chlorinated California pools, I was assured that it not only was clean, but also far healthier than the traditional pool.

Seawater for the pool is pumped up from a well planted deep in the sand beneath Gurney’s beach, filtered to remove any unwelcome sea creatures and heated to 84 degrees. The salt content makes for a slower, more relaxed sort of swimming--it’s almost impossible to sink. And except for the spa guest on a salt-free diet who swims with his mouth open, seawater immersion is considered very healthful and soothing to the body.

The sea and its products are the stars of the Gurney’s regimen. According to Baroness Hildegarde von Menklenberg, who comes here from Heidelberg to direct the spa six months a year, seawater is special because of its chemical resemblance to human plasma. “For ages and ages, man has worshiped the sea for its healing effects,” she says. “It is extraordinarily rich in minerals and all the safe elements.” ( Safe elements? Well, no krypton, I guess.)

At the baroness’ recommendation, I began my series of seawater treatments. I paid the a la carte prices, which ranged from $3 for the Roman Bath to $20 for the Seaweed Wrap. I started with the Thalasso Therapy, or underwater massage.

My masseuse Grace ushered me into a low-lit room with an oversized blue bathtub in the center and helped me climb in. The ocean water inside had been warmed to body temperature so it felt a little like climbing into a tub of liquid nothing.

With my head suspended on a canvas sling, I entered an eerie void of sensation. I was floating but not feeling, until Grace turned on six powerful underwater jets that massaged my torso from all sides.

Somehow, the turbulence was soothing. I bobbed on the bubbles on one side and then the other until Grace nodded and reached in to pull me out. The underwater massage is followed by a Swiss Shower, a tingling attack of fresh water from needle jets. The therapist varies the velocity of spray and temperature from hot to cold to insure invigoration.

A relaxed version of this therapy, developed by the baroness herself, eliminates the bubbly massage and adds soft music and a live reading by one of the spa’s resident nurses of a description of the sunset. “You have to have a very open mind to truly appreciate this,” says the baroness and she is right.

Overheated seawater is the medium of the Roman Bath, a step-in pool rather like a giant Jacuzzi that boasts not only muscle relaxation but also respiratory benefits from inhaling the diffused sea spray.

The most vigorous of the sea therapies is the Dead Sea Salt Glow. Once you get past the name, it’s really not so bad. Coarse salt (from the Dead Sea, of course) is mixed with almond oil into a paste and rubbed into the skin until it glows--or you cry, whichever comes first. It is a rousing rub and great for sloughing off all those dead cells we all carry around, but it is not especially relaxing.

But the seaweed wrap, now that is Nirvana. Some years ago, Monte and the baroness attempted to harvest seaweed from the Atlantic at their doorstep, but New York seaweed didn’t seem to work well and the seaweed is now imported from Brittany. By the time it gets to Gurney’s, it has been freeze-dried and liquidized into a creamy liquid the color of pea soup.

“It’s very, very messy,” warns the baroness, “but your skin will never be smoother and you won’t come out green or stay green.”

As my seaweed therapist Grace (she does it all, apparently) began massaging the green goo into my skin, I gasped for breath. “Oh, does this irritate your breathing?” she asked. “It’s very potent, this smell.”

I’ll say. After a few minutes, I smelled like low tide. But gradually, as Grace dimmed the lights and wrapped me mummy-like in layers of smooth sheets and thick towels, I began to enjoy this uniquely slimed feeling. Grace turned on a few overhead heat lamps, applied a cold compress to my eyes and forehead and switched on some classical music.

I lay there for about 20 minutes, listening to my breathing--no longer labored--and thinking about the sea and mermaids and the soft green waves of peace and contentment breaking over me. And though I would walk miles on the dreamy deserted beaches over the next few days, already I had found what I’d come here for.

GUIDEBOOK: Long Island Sea Spa

Getting there: By major airline from LAX to New York’s John F. Kennedy Airport, a round-trip ticket purchased two weeks in advance is about $350. From the airport, take a cab to Flushing, Queens, or other scheduled stops along the route of the Hampton Jitney, a luxurious coach service between New York City and the east end of Long Island. The one-way bus trip is under $25 and includes a free snack and New York newspapers to read on the two- to three-hour ride to Montauk.

Accommodations: Gurney’s Inn Resort and Spa has rates for one person, double occupancy, that range from $125 to $180 per night, including breakfast and dinner. Spa packages range from $130 per day to about $1,000 per week, not including room rate. Spa menu is included in the spa package, and is available to guests in the resort’s prize-winning dining room. The Panoramic View, an oceanfront cluster of motel units and cottages just west of Gurney’s on the Old Montauk Highway, has off-season rates as low as $60 per unit to $150 per suite in season--but no restaurant and no children under the age of 10 due to the steep terrain. Access for Panoramic View guests to Gurney’s Inn spa facility costs $16.50 per day.

For more information: Contact Gurney’s Inn Resort and Spa, Montauk, Long Island, N.Y. 11954, (800) 8-GURNEY.