“After the tour, you’re welcome to come back and indulge in whatever you’d like.”
My mind raced with tantalizing possibilities: hot stone massages, aromatherapy wraps, botanical facials. I could practically feel imaginary hands working expert pressure into the knot that had taken up residence between my shoulder blades.
Noah induced stress, probably. I ignored the brief flash of blue eyes that snuck into my brain.
The fitness center was next on our tour, and while I avoided exercise at all costs, even I had to admit this was a gym worth documenting.
“Our equipment’s all top of the line.” Maya gestured toward the rows of gleaming machines. “Peloton bikes, Hydrowrowers, and we just got these new AI-powered strength training systems.”
I filmed a smooth pan across the gym, capturing how the natural light glinted off chrome surfaces. Through the massive windows, the mountains provided a backdrop that made even treadmills look appealing. Almost.
“What’s that room back there?”
“That’s our movement studio. We offer everything from sunrise yoga to HIIT classes.” Maya pointed at the schedule on the wall. “This week we have sound bath meditation, mountain flow yoga, and our sip and stretch. Basically, it’s Pilates with wine afterwards.”
“Count me in on the wine part.”
I could already visualize the content. Time-lapse videos of sunrise salutations as alpenglow painted the peaks pink. Sped-up footage of clouds rolling past while I pretended to know how to hold warrior pose without falling on my butt.
“Over here we have our recovery zone.” Maya pointed to the massage chairs that looked advanced enough to apply for their own medical licenses. Then she walked me past the smoothie bar, stocked with organic protein powders in glass jars and fresh fruit arranged in a rainbow.
“All our post-workout drinks are customized for altitude adjustment. The Mountain Berry Blast is my personal favorite. Helps with oxygen absorption.”
I zoomed in on the menu board, capturing the artisanal chalk lettering and illustrated mountain motifs.
“And of course, just like with all our spa treatments, you’re more than welcome to partake in any fitness classes or use the exercise machines whenever you want. Your room key allows access twenty-four seven.”
I looked around at the fitness fanatics already working up a sweat. A woman on a Peloton waspedaling like she was fleeing from bears, while a man with shoulders wider than my torso grunted as he hoisted weights that could anchor a small yacht.
“Yeah, I think I’m good.”
I followed Maya through another set of glass doors, revealing what had to be the most spectacular pool area I’d ever seen. A series of cascading waterfalls created intimate grottos between multiple hot tubs, each one perfectly positioned to frame a different mountain vista. Steam rose from the water’s surface, catching the morning light and creating an ethereal mist that softened the boundaries between water, air, and stone.
“Each hot tub is set to a different temperature,” Maya explained, leading me along a path of smooth river rocks embedded in cedar decking. “The minerals from the springs are excellent for muscle recovery and relaxation.”
“This is incredible.”
“Wait until you see the grotto bar.”
Maya led me through a cave-like passage, where the rough stone walls opened into a hidden oasis. A swim-up bar curved along one edge of a lagoon-like pool. Hanging plants cascaded from the ceiling. Lighting integrated into the rock walls created the impression of being inside a bioluminescent cave.
“Our mixologists created a specialty cocktail menu inspired by mountain streams.” Maya picked up a leather-bound menu from a nearby table. “The Glacier Melt is our most popular, local gin, blue curaçao, and elderflower liqueur topped with sparkling wine and edible silver flakes.”
As if on cue, a bartender in a fitted black shirt began crafting one, his movements fluid and precise. I filmed the entire process, from the theatrical pour of electric-blue liqueur to the final sprinkle of silver flakes that swirled through the cocktail like metallic snowflakes in a winter storm.
The bartender offered me the drink, but I wavedhim off. “Maybe later. Actually, definitely later. I’ll be back.” I did my best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, but both the bartender and Maya just looked at me like I was crazy.
“You know,Terminator.”
More blank stares.
“My parents grew up in the eighties, so I’ve sorta been brainwashed. You know how GenXers are.”
Maya smiled politely.
Beyond the grotto, the infinity pool seemed to spill right into the mountain lake below, the boundaries between man-made and natural blurred to the point of invisibility. The water reflected the clouds overhead, creating a perfect mirror image.
I captured everything. Boomerangs of the spa’s waterfall features. Slow-motion videos of water cascading over polished river rocks. Panoramas of the mountains reflecting in still pool surfaces. Each post generated immediate engagement, comments rolling in faster than I could read them.
