Weekend Getaway: I Didn’t Think I’d Love a Yoga Retreat—Until I Did

When I’m packing for any trip, I’ll optimistically shove a single set of workout clothes into the bottom of my bag (where, usually, it remains until I get home). But the day before leaving for Nectar Yoga Retreat, I make sure my husband Chris and I have three sets each: this two-night getaway on Bowen Island, just northwest of Vancouver, promises at least one hour-long movement session per day. After the 20-minute ferry ride from Horseshoe Bay, we’ll be joining—or infiltrating—a group of diehard yogis on a journey of introspection and relaxation surrounded by the gorgeous Pacific Northwest landscape. Unsure of how I should mentally prepare, I focus on outfits. Three pairs of socks will have to be enough, because lately mine have been going missing.

DAY ONE

A woman named Lynne checks us in, then gives us a short tour of the Nectar grounds. She’s the most soft-spoken person I’ve ever met—having a delicate whisper of a voice must be an asset, if not a requirement, when one works at a remote yoga retreat. We walk by the three minimalist A-frame cabins, the four cottages and the lodge, where we’ll gather soon for orientation and then again every morning for a communal breakfast. A short walk up the hill, there’s Mist Thermal Sanctuary, a sauna/cold plunge experience that opened on the property in January 2025. In the opposite direction, there’s the geodesic yoga dome, where all of Nectar’s guests will meet for meditation, breathwork and movement. As we navigate the gravel pathways, my husband quietly says for one night only at the Yogadome several times in his best monster-truck-announcer impression. That voice would not be an asset if he wanted a job here.

Jokes aside, Chris is much better suited to this kind of experience than I am. He likes to meditate, and he prioritizes his own physical and mental wellness (read: he’ll go to the community centre sauna solo or devote an entire gym session to stretching). My own movement routine isn’t about inner peace (read: I prefer a fitness studio that blasts club beats while a chiselled instructor yells at me). When all the guests—there are 13 of us in total—meet in the lodge for our orientation, we’re asked to introduce ourselves, and say our word of intention for the astrological new year. Chris picks “rising,” eliciting oohs from the other guests. They’re experts: including Chris and I, only five of the 13 have never been to Nectar before. The rest have already fallen in love with this forest retreat. They are “real” yoga people. And just as I’m beginning to feel entirely out of my element, Andrea, who is leading the orientation cross-legged on a soft grey sofa, says, “Yoga is for everyone—for every mind, for every body.” With that, we’re off to put that to the test: the first lesson starts just after orientation.

Inside the yoga dome, the instructor, Sarah, starts by talking about the full moon happening tonight. It’s a good time to charge your crystals in the moonlight, she says, then she lists some of the wildlife—ducks, deer, owls—that we’re likely to see during our stay. After that, she guides us through our first movement session. For an amateur like me, it feels very stretch- focused. There are no challenging poses or upside-down acrobatics. It’s more about breathing and being aware of your body and your energy. It’s a very pleasant introduction to a world I don’t yet feel a part of.

DAY TWO

The first morning starts at 8 a.m. with a half-hour guided meditation, so I’m excited when Andrea says we’ll begin the session lying down. But it’s not for our comfort: we’re about to do a breathing exercise that, according to the instructor, may create a heightened sense of awareness and leave you feeling invigorated. We do a pursed-lip, in-in-out breathing pattern for the duration of a song. Then, we dive into a more typical meditation, imagining energy that starts in our toes and slowly flows up through the rest of our bodies. My husband later says that, going by my breathing, I was likely asleep during this portion of the morning (I think I simply transcended to a higher plane). But I am very awake during the movement that follows: while Andrea offers plenty of adjustments and options, this class is more physically advanced. I feel confident, though, largely because I’ve noticed that no one seems to care at all how downward my dog is.

That sense of anonymity fades during breakfast. A dish of potatoes, quinoa salad, toast and a hard-boiled egg is sitting at every spot at the long table when we enter the lodge post-yoga. There is no human in sight, which feels a bit like Beauty and the Beast. (Later, I learn that the food was prepared by the lovely retreat chef, Aya, rather than by a chorus of sentient cutlery.) Lynne floats in while we’re eating to pass around “conversation cards”—notecards printed with questions like “What smell makes you feel nostalgic” and “When was the last time you felt unbridled joy.” Many opt not to answer the latter, a sign of how important this stay is; if nothing else, it’s an opportunity to slow down, reflect and reset. The conversation cards do their job, and soon everyone is chatting over their quinoa and coffee. Like us, a couple of other guests have booked in at Mist Thermal Sanctuary after breakfast.

As we walk up the winding forest pathway toward Mist, the full beauty of the saunas becomes apparent. Each one looks like a little house cantilevered over the lush cliffside. Once inside our dedicated pod (called “Forest”), we shower using the dreamy eucalyptus-scented products and settle in to the contrast therapy. Chris does the recommended cycle of 15 minutes of sauna followed by one minute of icy plunge; I do less of both in the spirit of listening to my body and what it needs. I’ve been to quite a few Nordic-inspired hot/cold spas in B.C., but this is easily the most beautiful. Watching the light dance through the trees through the wall-to-wall window of the wood-fired sauna as you sweat your cares away feels both effortless and luxurious.

DAY THREE

The rays of sun filtering through the yoga dome during Friday morning’s breathwork and meditation are downright ethereal. The class, taught by instructor Cat, is similar in difficulty (movement-wise, at least) to yesterday’s. During a particularly bendy position—lizard—Cat points out that it isn’t about the poses, and that the ability to get your head closer to the mat doesn’t necessarily mean you are more enlightened. My head, miles from the mat, feels very enlightened—in part because I’ve let go of the belief that my analytical brain makes me incompatible with this space, and in part because I’ve noticed that my husband is wearing a pair of my socks, solving a months-long mystery. Twisted up to my maximum, I breathe deeply and train my gaze on his left sole, where the soft cotton of my sock heel is firmly stretched across his foot’s arch. Instead of feeling annoyed, I feel satisfied. Peaceful, even. It’s not traditional enlightenment, but it’s something.

I carry that vibe through our breakfast of golden milk yogurt (a colour achieved by mixing the yogurt up with turmeric, ginger, cinnamon and honey), granola, fruit and a scone. Lynne appears again to draw a card from an oracle deck and read it aloud for all of us to contemplate and carry with us beyond checkout time. It’s the Messenger. I know that cards like this can be interpreted many ways, but it feels extra serendipitous for me: after all, as a writer, sharing this story is part of why I’m here in the first place. That, and to relax, recharge and look inward—to immerse myself in a practice and a community that’s foreign to me, to challenge my initial judgements. And to figure out where all my socks went.

 

Bowen Island To-Dos

EAT

Bowen’s dining scene is small but mighty. Doc Morgan’s (named after a barber, not a doctor) in Snug Cove goes full nautical with sailing paraphernalia and a menu featuring fresh oysters, calamari, poke and prawns. We got the Pacific rock cod fish and chips, the ultimate seaside comfort food. The Snug Café a few doors down is a bustling coffeehouse with a robust menu; We popped in to try the very decadent and often sold-out alfajor (a.k.a. dulche de leche sandwich cookie). Up the hill in Artisan Square, Artisan Eats Café is a community hub for locals—if you ask aloud how yesterday’s soup was, odds are another customer will answer.

DRINK

Across the street from Nectar Yoga Retreat is Bowen Cider House, a cidery serving family recipes in rustic, warm digs. The outdoor patio is a summer hot spot, but they recently opened an indoor lounge, too. On the day we visited, the lounge smelled like apple pie, an amazing sensory teaser for the drinks (as were the old-school tractor and harvest videos projected on a loop). My favourite was the semi-dry Estate Blend, my husband’s was the semi-sweet Ugly Apples Gala. Here, cider flows through the food, too: the Cider House soup that day was a twist on French onion made with Granny Cowan’s cider, which is also used to braise the veggies atop the bratwurst (cider and hot dogs are an underrated combo).

BIKE

Bowen eBikes CEO Brendan Robertson will give you a lock, but don’t fret about it too much—this island biz hasn’t had a theft in six years of operation. I can’t be convinced that there’s any better way to navigate Bowen than on an e-bike: electric assist makes the steep hills a breeze, and you’re fully immersed in the natural beauty of the island. We cycle all the way to the opposite end, which takes less than an hour, ditching our bikes at Collingwood Lane Park and walking the idyllic cliffside path to the Bowen Island Whale Trail site. We see no whales, but several dogs gallop along the beach. And, sure enough, as we trudge up from our hike, the bikes are waiting to take us back. If screaming with joy as you coast downhill past donkey-dotted acreages is wrong, I don’t want to be right.