Relax. Take a hot Tyrolean hay bath

Method-acting guru Constantin Stanislavski once wrote that "at times of great stress, it is especially necessary to achieve a complete freeing of the muscles".

As Hans, heilmasseur at Seefeld's Hotel Klosterbäu, prepared a traditional Tyrolean hay bath for me, I wondered whether he was aware of this.

I was visiting this five-star former monastery in the Austrian Tyrol to see whether a combination of skiing and spa treatment could relieve the stress of living in London. Hans had recommended this local speciality, a heubad: a hay bath isn't really a bath at all. Local farmers used to carry large sacks of the stuff around on their backs. When it was realised that they were always in fine fettle, wrapping yourself in a small haystack became all the rage.

First, the hay - "taken from a field at least five kilometres from the nearest road," Hans assured me - is doused in hot water for an hour. Spreading the damp hay on a plastic sheet over a leather couch, I'm invited to lie on top.

"It is better without," Hans informed me, his eyes travelling down to my trunks. I removed them, lowering myself onto the hay. The sensation was warmly comforting. Hans spared my blushes with a large dollop of wet hay before covering me almost entirely in soggy grass. The mummification continued as Hans wrapped me in more plastic sheeting, a heavy towel, swathes of leather and a gingham tablecloth.

"The temperature is 38 degrees. Good, yes?" said Hans, as he pressed a button and I started to descend into the leather couch. Hot water swilled around below me and I was soon encased in a waterbed-cum-coffin.

"If it gets too much, just shout very loudly," said Hans with a laugh as he turned the lights down low and the background music up before leaving me to stew. I tried in vain to move my arms from my sides. If this was stress-busting, then where was Stanislavski's recommended "complete freeing of muscles". As the haunting sound of alpenhorns filled the air, I wondered whether Tyrolean music torture was allowed under the Geneva Convention before falling asleep.

I was woken by Hans 20 minutes later, with a disturbing "Are you still alive?" A shower left me content and stress-free.

My stressed-out partner, Clare, tried a Thalgo body treatment, where the skin is exfoliated then toned with a mixture of seaweed and essential oils to draw out toxins before a final moisturising balm and warm fluffy-towel wrap. After such treatments, skiing might seem like the last thing to do, but Seefeld's mountains are the perfect partner to pampering. Nothing too challenging, just nice, wide blues and reds where you can take it easy, stopping off at cosy mountain huts like the Marmelehütte for a revivifying apricot schnapps.

We returned to the Klosterbräu and its wellness centre for a hot bath infused with sea salt and citrus oil in a vast copper tub, which banished calf aches after the day's exercise. That night, over a bottle of Grüner Veltiner, I asked after Clare's stress levels. She admitted having turned her mobile phone off with a resounding "sod it". If any of her colleagues are reading this, I apologise for any stress caused by them not being able to contact her.

Way to go

Mark Frary travelled to Seefeld with Inghams A la carte (020 8780 8811). Three nights' halfboard at the five-star Hotel Klosterbräu costs from £485pp, including flights. Classic seaweed treatment €110, combined bath with sea salt and essential oils €33 and hay bath €39.

Where to find more après-ski treats
Destination guide: Austria