A cross between a high-tech hospital and a cosy wooden chalet, Mayrlife is no ordinary spa hotel.
Perched on the shores of glassy Lake Altaussee, high in the Austrian Alps, the medi-spa is beloved by celebs – Rebel Wilson apparently checks in every year – but this is not a place for indulgence.
Your time here revolves around the Mayr Cure, a century-old detox philosophy that combines strict nutrition and medical testing with a daily dose of cold-water dips, IV infusions and massages.
I’m a reasonably healthy person – I avoid fast food, always have my five-a-day and run about 15k a week, although I love a sweet treat and definitely drink too much wine.
But a double whammy of summer flu and an eye infection left me feeling run down and anxious about myriad aches and pains, while a stressful few months flat hunting alongside a busy job in London meant I was well and truly frazzled by the time I limped my way to Salzburg Airport.
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Hooked up to electrodes, I underwent a full-body analysis on my first morning at Mayrlife. And the results didn’t paint the picture I expected.
Despite my relatively low BMI, my body fat percentage was 0.8 percent higher than it should be.
No surprise, explained Dr Gisela Laimer, Head of Nutritional Counseling at Mayrlife, as the test showed I was burning sugar, not fat — a sign of stress at a cellular level. Ouch.
My weekly long runs and attempts at vegetarianism weren’t helping. My protein levels were low, and the breath analysis, which involved breathing into a tube with a peg over my nose, showed shallow, anxious breathing that wasn’t delivering enough oxygen.
Other tests include Advanced Kinesiology, which checks for intolerances. Dr Silke Richter pops a tiny dose of powdered lactose or gluten on your tongue and sees if your muscle resistance suddenly gives way.
Thankfully, I came up clear on anything tasty, but my arm flopped when my immune system and cortisol levels were tested.
The official diagnosis: run down and stressed out.
Could the Mayr Cure help me?
The treatments
Mayrlife is not a ‘fly-and-flop’ kind of place.
An app guides you through an intense schedule of massages, IV drips (I went for an antioxidant infusion), activities including guided hikes, exercise classes and seminars, and of course, mealtimes.
There’s also a regimen of metabolism-boosting supplements, medications and a morning dose of magnesium citrate – a gentle laxative – to remember.
One of the first treatments is colonic irrigation – as invasive as it sounds, but also oddly relaxing, as your therapist massages your belly throughout.
Next was a hydrotherapy wrap. Rubbed down with oil and salt, wrapped in a plastic sheet and submerged in a warm bath for 20 minutes, I felt like a giant steak being cooked sous-vide.
Afterwards came an intense full-body massage – one of three prescribed during my stay – where every knot was kneaded out with military precision.
Finally I was flash frozen in the Cryotherapy chamber, shivering in my bikini and enormous woollen mittens, booties and a giant furry hat, while I was chilled at -110 degrees for a skin-pricking three minutes.
Well and truly meal-prepped, I staggered down to the hotel’s private jetty to recover, skin still bright pink and zinging, to dive into the ice-cold lake.
Being in nature is another principle of the Cure, and there could hardly be a more beautiful place to experience it – surrounded by untouched forests, dramatic mountains and with a dazzling view across Lake Altaussee’s pristine waters.
The food at Mayrlife spa
The Cure is an intensive guided detox programme, and a huge part of the philosophy is the food – a fully alkaline diet, rich in antioxidants and high in protein.
Alcohol, caffeine, sugar and cow’s milk are banned.
The menu is all very Alpine – full of goat’s cheese (better for digestion than cow’s cheese), local fish including trout and arctic char, and vegetable and herbs freshly picked from the hotel’s garden – and all beautifully cooked and presented, which helps the diet seem less daunting.
Not only is what you eat important, it’s how you eat it.
Drinks at mealtime are forbidden (aside from an ‘espresso’ made from liver-boosting dandelion root, for those who really can’t start the day without a pick-me-up), as too much slurping with your dinner is apparently bad for digestion.
The dry hunks of spelt or rye bread served with each meal are ‘chew trainers’, and you’re constantly reminded of the need to chew 30 times each bite.
We’re also warned that the wait staff will not provide more food, no matter how much we might beg for an extra helping.
But despite the small portions and lack of snacks, I’m strangely satisfied, and not craving my usual 3pm KitKat. What gives?
‘When the gut is empty, you don’t feel as hungry’, Dr Silke asssures me over my daily belly massage.
How to eat, according to Mayrlife
The rules:
No drinks with dinner, not even water.
No food should be eaten after 7pm, and no raw food after 4pm.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should never be skipped.
Ten drops of digestive bitters on the tongue before each meal to support the liver.
Breakfast
Sample meal: Avocado protein mousse with arctic char caviar, smoked trout, rice crackers and a dandelion root espresso (eggs are permitted every second day)
Lunch
Sample meal: Celeriac soup, with a rye bread roll and 1tbsp linseed oil
Sea bass with new potatoes, bok choi, herbs and dried vegetables
Dinner
Sample meal: Courgette soup, with a spelt bread roll and 1tbsp linseed oil
Does the Mayr Cure really work?
The beginning of the cure can be rather miserable – I was lucky to avoid any dramatic side effects of the magnesium citrate, there are horror stories about being glued to the loo – but the first two days I had a nasty headache, couldn’t face the gym, and went to bed feeling a bit weepy at 9pm.
However, as my body adjusted, I felt myself truly relaxing – a deep, focused kind of stillness that I don’t think I’d ever experienced before.
After five days, I’d dropped a kilogram, was bouncing out of bed and showing off my newly flawless complexion to just about anyone who’d look. (That salt wrap really did work wonders.)
But it wasn’t over. The Mayr Cure is followed by a two-week diet to help the gut reacclimatise to life outside the clinic.
The first week wasn’t easy – incorporating the same level of restriction and discipline into my hectic London schedule was a big adjustment.
Still, I stuck by the principles, cooking with coconut oil instead of olive oil, starting the morning with a jar of homemade oats instead of a pastry and a latte, and taking time to enjoy, and most importantly, chew every bite.
A month after leaving Austria, I’m still keeping it up. I’m not suddenly the perfect paragon of wellness – I’ve had a few sweet treats and even the odd glass of wine – but the Cure seems to have pressed a reset button.
I’m waking up refreshed before my 6.30am alarm even goes off, my energy doesn’t slump mid-afternoon, and my skin still has that spa glow.
More importantly, I’ve kept some of the rituals: eating more mindfully, going on daily walks, and hydrating properly throughout the day.
So was it worth it? Absolutely – though not just because I’ve lost a couple kilos or picked up a few healthy hacks.
The real luxury was stepping out of the cycle of stress and speed, and giving my body and mind the chance to truly rest.
Mayrlife isn’t a holiday in the traditional sense – it’s more like a bootcamp for your gut and your habits – but if you’re feeling burned out, it might just be the reset you didn’t know you needed.
Sophie Laughton was a guest of Mayrlife. Seven-night stays including treatment programme, accommodation and Mayrlife cuisine from £5,065.
British Airways flies direct to Salzburg from London Heathrow daily. EasyJet runs direct flights for the winter season, starting December 2025.
