My Magdalene mud bath begins with salt. While I’m no stranger to spas, neither am I a frequenter, so when I heard “mud bath,” I imagined myself sprawled by a plunge pool, avocado detox smoothie in hand, eyelids softening beneath cucumber slices, my face smeared with some sort of exfoliating concoction so close to chocolate as to be almost edible.
Against all expectations, my Magdalene mud bath included no smoothie. No cucumber. The “bath” was more of the stand-up variety. A remote shoreline stood in for the Nordic spa setting, and a cool lagoon for the plunge pool. And the salt, well it has no relation to bath salts. Rather, the salt theme turned out to be a deep dive into the natural history of the Magdalene Islands, Quebec’s archipelago in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, a five-hour ferry ride from Souris, P.E.I.
Claude Boudrias is my guide, instructor, and fellow mud wallower. He’s with Le Auberge de Salicorne, the inn on the northern tip of the Magdalene Islands where I’m staying, and the purveyor of this unique experience. I’ve brought my lifelong buddy, Roger, who could use the break from the stress of recent upheavals in his life. After a 10-minute kayak paddle across the Bassin aux Huitres lagoon (Oyster Basin) from Salicorne, Boudrias scratches into the sand a rough sketch of Earth as it looked over 300 million years ago.
“To know a bit about the islands, we have to go back when we had only one continent, Pangea,” says Boudrias, outlining a landmass. He tells me how a sea formed in the middle of Pangea, depositing salt over millions of years. As the salt dried, the weight of the massive deposit pushed it down.
Millions of years later, in a process of near biblical proportions, seven gigantic pillars of salt slowly rose toward the surface. Those pillars raised the Magdalene Islands above sea level in today’s Gulf of St. Lawrence. An island salt mine is proof of Boudrias’s creation story. He’s been down the mine to witness the fascinating methods used to extract the salt.
“I’m seeing it because I went there,” he says as he relives it in his mind’s eye. “We’re in this pickup, and you just drive and get the feeling you’re in the Lord of the Rings.”
The geological forces that created the salt pillars and the islands also deposited red sandstone and veins of soft clay, which Boudrias seeks out for the mud bath. After eons of erosion, only bits of an island that once framed the lagoon still remain. We make our way around to the ocean side of the largest bit. There, Boudrias plucks a hunk of red clay from the eroding cliff. It’s been a dry summer, so the clay is harder than usual.
Standing ankle-deep in the ocean, the three of us wet the clay and work it with our hands until it feels like a silky cake of soap. We smear it all over our faces, arms, torso, and legs. The residue dries quickly. We add another layer and another. Eventually, our eyes are the only part of our bodies not covered in silky, red-brown mud. We pause to take a look at each other, and can’t help but laugh. Smiles and eyes light up. We clean our hands enough to snap some photos. Flipping through them, we look more cavemen than spa clients.
Boudrias speaks of the health benefits, both of the mud on our skins and the freeing of our hearts as we revert to our childhood selves. High fives, slaps on the back that leave mucky handprints, shouts, and laughter echoing off the cliff walls, any of which might get us ejected from a silent spa, happen as organically as the clay’s origins. Boudrias snaps a few pictures of Roger and me, arms around each other’s muddy shoulders, grinning from dirty ear to dirty ear.
When the mud and stress begin to puff away as dust in the sea breeze, we return to the kayaks pulled up on the shore of the lagoon. There, we wade into the shallows between beds of eelgrass to wet ourselves down. It takes repeated efforts to scrub away the mud. Each time I think I’ve removed the last of it, I find more. With a handful of sand, I find it more effective to rub it away. My shorts are toast but my skin feels silky smooth.
When I climb back into my kayak and float out onto the lagoon, I feel as relaxed, rejuvenated, and reconnected to the moment as after any previous spa treatment. A look of tranquility has replaced the stress on the face of my brother-from-another-mother friend. I’m grateful for the healing he’s experienced. Boudrias paddles ahead with dirty towels and chores while we lag behind, drifting beneath a sky smeared with the thinnest application of cloud here in nature’s spa.
Shrimp and mushrooms risotto
The kitchen at Le Auberge de Salicorne serves this delicious risotto, which you can top with local North Atlantic shrimp.
Ingredients
3/4 cup (180 mL) mushrooms
¼ cup (60 mL) olive oil
½ cup (120 mL) green onion
¼ cup (60 mL) butter
1 cup arborio rice
2 cups (480 mL) or more of hot chicken stock
½ cup (120 mL) white wine
½ cup (120 mL) Parmesan cheese, grated
handful of cooked carrot ribbons
Method
Finely mince the mushrooms and sauté in 2 tbsp (30 mL) of olive oil. Finely chop the onion, and briefly sauté with mushrooms. Add rice. Stir to coat with the oil. Stir in the white wine. After the wine is absorbed, slowly, in small quantities, add the chicken stock. When cooked al dente, remove from heat, and add all but 2 tbs (30 mL) of parmesan cheese. Sauté shrimp in remaining olive oil. Make carrot ribbons with a carrot peeler. Steam or boil carrot ribbons until barely cooked. For serving, place a scoop of risotto on a heated plate, top with carrot ribbons, shrimp, and remaining parmesan. Serve.
