Yee-haw Spa

By Bobbie Hasselbring, Photos by Anne Weaver

High in the Rocky Mountains just outside of Granby, Colorado, the C Lazy U Dude Ranch operates one of the only “cowboy” spas in the country. The C Lazy You Spa is housed in five canvas miner’s tents connected by raised wooden walkways all clustered in a meadow along Willow Creek. Guests who come for three to seven days at the C Lazy U ranch can step out of their stirrups and into the luxury of a first-class spa, which is exactly what I did.

s I slid into the big copper tub, allowing the steaming water rise above my chin, I knew exactly how grateful saddle-weary cowboys must have felt a hundred years ago. The previous day, I’d spent three hours in the saddle trotting, loping, and galloping across sweeping valleys, through white-barked aspens, over rocky outcrops, and up steep mountainsides. And let me say right now, I’m not a cowgirl. While my horseback riding skills are pretty good, I don’t normally spend my day in the saddle and, when I woke the next morning, my legs, low back, and shoulders let me know it. Fortunately for me, the ranch offers a full-service spa, one that Denver Magazine has named “One of the Best 25 Spas” in the state. I’d signed up for the Cowboy Soak, 60 minutes in big airy tent soaking in a hammered copper tub with a view of the mountains, the creek, and a forever blue sky. My bath attendant had filled the six-foot tub with perfectly hot mineral water and I shucked my big, white robe and slipped in. Ah, perfect. My sore muscles practically sighed as the hot water eased their tension. As I drifted into the reverie of hot water, soothing flute music, and cobalt sky, I found myself watching puffy, white clouds lazily drift by; swallows with blue-green iridescent wings and golden bellies swooping and dipping

Aover the creek; willows and aspen leaves gently fluttering in the breeze. When the heat had soaked me through, I turned on the cold spigot and bathed my face, arms, and legs in the coolness. The breeze blowing through the open end of the tent provided natural air conditioning and felt refreshing against my hot skin. If the water felt too cool, I’d add a little hot water. As my relaxation deepened, clouds took on strange shapes. There was a duck, a dragon, a dog cloud morphing into a cowboy. I spent 20 minutes watching a fat white bit of vapor lazily inch its way past the center pole of my tent. This was all about nothing but relaxing, completely melting into the moment. By the time my masseuse called for me, I was struggling to keep my eyes open and my hands were waterpuckered. Next time, I’ll try the 35 minute pre-massage soak or maybe the Couple Cowboy Soak (one tub per person) complete with champagne and strawberries in the moonlight. Kneading Out the Kinks My long soak did wonders preparing me for my “Giddy Up” Traditional Swedish Massage. My therapist, Tracey, was a veteran with plenty of experience and training and enough muscle to immediately knead out the knot in my shoulder I’d gotten from trying to slow my enthusiastic horse.

Big copper soaking tubs and a forever view

Couples can opt for a dual Cowboy Soak and massage.

The C Lazy You Spa offers 60- and 80-minute Swedish massages in light, medium, or deep tissue strokes. I’d opted for medium and deep pressure and Trisha combined the two perfectly. My legs were incredibly sore from “posting,” rising up and down in the saddle during the trot. My wrangler’s horse had walked much faster than mine, but Shoshone hated to be left behind. So he trotted to catch up and I responded with the up-and-down post. My legs knew the whole story and my IT bands, those ropy strips of flesh that run down the outside of the legs, were taut as violin strings. Tracey gently and then more firmly stroked and kneaded this painful area. Then she lifted each leg, moving it to stretch my sore muscles. By the time I turned onto my back, the combination of the soak and the massage rendered me incapable of continuing an intelligent conversation with my masseuse. I surrendered completely to her ministrations and simply breathed and, occasionally, sighed deeply. After a full 60 minutes, my entire body felt relaxed and my muscle soreness had disappeared. The spa offers both 60- and 80-minute massages and even “Bonnie and Clyde” couple massages. The Finishing Touch Now that I was completely relaxed (and a bit muddle-headed), it was time for the finishing touch, a manicure. Horseback riding and the dry air of high altitude mountains had done nothing good for my hands and nails. Lydia, a young nail therapist who also does facials at C Lazy You, brought out bowls of warm spring water to soak my hands. She closely examined my nails, declaring, “Nice nails” and asked what I’d like – standard manicure, French manicure, color, or no color. Then she used a fine emery board and shaped my nails, carefully smoothing the edges and used a tiny scissor-like instrument to cut off any errant skin. She softened my cuticles and pushed them back into their proper place. She rubbed my arms and hands with an exfoliating scrub to remove any dead skin cells and massaged then with a delicious-smelling lotion. Then she had me plunge my hands into warm paraffin. “This will soften and moisturize your hands,” she told me. She was right. When she peeled away the cooled wax, my hands felt amazingly soft and supple. She rubbed pliable beeswax that smelled like

Some of the spa tents are suspended right over Willow Creek.

Soaking the nails in warm spring water softens and prepares them for shaping.

honey into my cuticles. Then it was time for the finish – for me, a colorless hardener and quick-dry top coat. When I looked at my hands, I couldn’t believe it. Those rough, dry, ragged nails were perfect. My skin fairly shone from the treatment. Next time I think I’ll get one of the ranch’s many facial treatments too. It would be absolutely amazing for my body, my hands, and my face to look and feel this good. Now that’s a yeehaw spa! http://www.clazyu.com

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The Adventures of Alice in New York

Each month Alice Holland will entertain us with her daily struggles to manage her new life in New York City. A Brief Introduction…

I moved to New York City almost one year ago, escaping the humdrum but secure life as a biological science researcher at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee. However, almost as quickly as I arrived, I departed. The Music City was filled with amazing talent entertaining nightly in the hostel downstairs from my condo, but for a girl born and raised in England, it was hard to appreciate Tennessean life and I longed for something more. It took six months before I found myself jam packed into my friend’s car with my potted miniature rose in one hand and all my hopes and dreams in the other, headed for the greatest adventure of all, the Big Apple, New York, NY. Three months later I’m living in Harlem with no living room, barely a kitchen, no air conditioner in 90 degree heat and a cat that is determined to make my life hell. While I’m waiting to hear back from a promising position at Columbia University, I’m scraping by working at Starbucks all hours, just to hold on long enough until they make a decision. After two more months of waiting I’m informed that they “don’t have the finances” for me. Delightful! Having only saved up enough money for one month’s rent and a security deposit I was broke and beginning

to think my future in New York was looking bleak, besides the fact I was getting pummeled by New York life on a daily basis (as is the way if you move here with little money and no connections). Having so many people in such close proximity all the time, combined with blazing heat and subways with minimal air ventilation, a not so great day can turn into utter hell within minutes. It takes much patience and love for human kind to not push a man down the stairs, because he’s walking at a snail’s pace refusing to move out of the way – which in turn makes you miss your train, completely disrupting your finely tuned schedule for the next 3 hours. By this point even working at Starbucks didn’t raise the rent, so I had two choices: Borrow money from my possessive ex-boyfriend and fight the last good fight for a place that chews me up on a daily basis, or move back in with the parents in sunny Florida. Being the hopeful protagonist that I am, I chose the former. After a call with the ex-boyfriend assuring me he’s going to help and send money immediately, I suddenly can’t get hold of him and he disappears off the planet. Through sheer determination and a little luck I manage to land two more jobs within the week, one as a “creative enthusiast” in this peculiar arts and crafts store, and one at the American Museum of Natural History in Live Exhibits as “the Butterfly Girl” working in the butterfly vivarium. A week later I get frantic calls from the Ex telling me he had been thrown in jail and only just got out, but he could still send the money. I was happy to inform him that I didn’t need it and when he asked, “Why not?” I replied, “I did it on my own thanks”. The months following I’m happy to report were finally enjoyable and a lot less stressful. I was adapting to being a fun and perky girl to fit in with the artsy and theatrical types I had to work with and realized, after time, I actually started to like it. A significant leap from the hermit lifestyle required from my previous work as a scientist, and ironically (and depressingly) more lucrative. I fell in love with the museum. But there was a downside, my work there was only seasonal, and though I held strong hopes they might find a way to keep me, I was finally let go. For months I tried for every position I was qualified for, though I soon realized each new opening position I applied for had realistically been taken months ago by someone waiting in line for it. What next? A really sweet friend of mine at the museum mentioned dog walking. I was admittedly apprehensive and not too thrilled about the demotion from scientist to dog walker, but the options were a familiar friend: Do what it takes to stay in NYC, or leave NYC. The problem is that this city has a kind of magic that makes it uniquely stand out from anywhere I’ve ever lived. Thanks to having gypsy like parents I’ve lived in many other cities and countries, travelling extensively, yet I have never experienced a place like this. Here, the world is on your doorstep. Within this jungle are extremes of every variety, and everything in between. I have never been at breaking point so many times, and then filled with pure joy so quickly again. I’ve also never felt that anything is possible – the way I do here. Which translates to: For better or worse (time will tell I suppose) I am bound to this town.

So, here I am world, an English girl in New York, the ex-biologist who now walks dogs that snort like pigs and smiles at children who throw paint on her all day. The most twisted curiosity in all this? I bloody LOVE this city!