Inside The Restorative Retreat Where I’d Happily Wait Out The Apocalypse

When the world feels like it’s teetering on the brink, you’ll want to head to Louma, a new breed of restorative hospitality on Dorset’s ancient coast, says Lucy Cleland.

Louma Review: Restorative Hospitality On The Jurassic Coast

Louma Retreat

There’s something very few people know about me. I have prepper tendencies. Lurking in the cupboard beneath the stairs is my survival starter kit: a wind-up radio, a torch, batteries, bottled water, energy bars, iodine tablets, even tinned macaroni cheese (though frankly, I’d need to be very hungry to contemplate eating the stuff). Should climate catastrophe – and with the Doomsday Glacier melting faster than predicted, who’s betting against it? – or social breakdown reach the streets of W3, I like to think I’d eke out a week or two longer than most.

But where I’d really like to be when the s**t hits the fan – and I calculate it would take under a week to walk the 140 miles from west London, following the A30 – is Louma, an enchanting, magical new breed of restorative hospitality tucked up on a hillside overlooking Charmouth Bay and the wild Jurassic coastline in Dorset.

There is nothing not to fall in love with about the place – apart from maybe the traffic-clogged drive from London on a Friday night, but at least the enemy won’t be looking for you once you get there (you’re far too hidden). Besides, I shouldn’t complain because I was driving a sleek, quiet Polestar 3, which makes any journey that much more bearable.

I wouldn’t need to pack my tinned goods either, because there is bounty aplenty at Louma. Organic beds supply much of what lands on your (stunning) plate, menus bending with the seasons: lamb in spring, honey-glazed carrots pulled that morning, tomatoes bursting with summer sweetness. Anything they can’t grow comes from neighbouring regenerative farms. They even tend their own biodynamic vines – so you won’t have to forgo alcohol in the apocalypse.

Louma’s story began in 2019 when South African-born Louis Steyn and his wife Emma set out to find a family home (Lou–ma, geddit?). They weren’t looking to open a hotel, but when they found 100 acres of Dorset farmland for sale, they fell in love and a bigger vision took hold: to create a sanctuary of sorts, not just for them but also for others seeking to soothe themselves – but stylishly, natch – in nature.

The farm was managed conventionally when they bought it, with depleted soil and grass addicted to fertiliser. The couple began the slow work of regeneration – ditching the chemicals, replanting herbal leys to improve soil health, nurturing biodiversity and learning, gradually, how to restore balance.

They tried growing hemp for wellness products (it failed spectacularly thanks to the wrong climate; it needs lots and lots of sunshine), then brought in livestock and chickens; now, Poll Dorset sheep graze the hills, and 90 free-range hens – in the biggest run you’ve ever seen – supply eggs. There are pigs and cows, too.

It would be easy – and lazy – to compare Louma to Soho Farmhouse, the razzle-dazzle, crowd-drawing and country lane-choking membership club in the Cotswolds. Yes, it’s beautiful – in both design and location – and yes, it’s an escape for well-heeled urbanites. But Louma isn’t about performative country chic. It’s exclusive to residents, so no locals popping in for Pilates; no imposters competing for loungers by the (exquisite) indoor pool (an outdoor one is due to open soon). If you’ve schlepped down the A30 from London, you can breathe easy: this is your refuge – there are only 17 rooms.

And exclusivity doesn’t mean pretentiousness. Quite the opposite. There’s no need to book tables weeks in advance; no pressured timetabling. Guests can do absolutely nothing (bliss) – and feel not a hint of guilt. Or else, there is a programme of Pilates, breathwork, yoga, horse riding, foraging walks and farm tours. Your choice, your pace.

Inside the buildings, Louma is all about tactility and light. Interiors – by designer Anna Bond, a family friend – feature natural plasters, raw timbers, heavy linens and tonal palettes that echo the Dorset landscape. The main barn, once a utilitarian tin shed, is now a central hub: wood-burning fires, shelves stacked with books and board games, a bar lined with biodynamic wines.

In winter, storms lash the coast and guests huddle by the fire with a glass of Syrah; in summer, swallows dip and dive over sun-dazzled terraces.

Louma’s approach to wellness is as down to earth as its hospitality ethos. Yes, you can do yoga – albeit overlooking a herd of cows – and get an excellent deep-tissue massage, but equally just being there and decompressing among the bees, the birds, the flora and the fauna is wellbeing in itself. Just hold onto that feeling as you hit the A30 in reverse on a Sunday night.

Louma will keep evolving; it’s just under a year old. But as long as it hangs onto its very tangible integrity and doesn’t try too hard, I’ll meet you there in the apocalypse.

Book from £530 for a Single Shepherd Hut, inclusive of breakfast, lunch and dinner for two guests. Find out more at loumafarmandretreat.co.uk