This spa in the Tuscan hills is perfect for a classy girls' trip

Times

17-05-2025

It has just gone 9pm. Silence envelops the Val d'Orcia in Tuscany and complete blackness, save for a shiny fingernail of moon, the quivering Milky Way and, on the horizon, the floodlit hexagonal 12th-century Tentennano Fortress.
In my swimsuit and a hugely unflattering (mandatory) bath cap, I'm lolling up to my neck in steaming water. A cool night wind brushes my face, ruffles the branches of the vast larch tree above and sends wisps of steam skittering across the water surface, just visible in the light coming from the dining room of Hotel La Posta at the far end of the pool.
I'd like to report that I'm wallowing thoughtfully, musing over how these 38C, mineral-rich waters began as raindrops that fell 18 years ago on the nearby dormant volcano Monte Amiata, at 1,736m the highest peak in southern Tuscany. But instead, I'm excitedly beckoning my friends as they appear wraithlike in the mist, from the doors leading directly from the indoor spa to the outdoor pools, to join me for La Posta's Friday (and Saturday) night ritual of bathing sotto le stelle — under the stars.
We've been here less than 48 hours and already we've staked out 'our' spot, a submerged seat at the pool's far end, rechristened 'the gossip bench'. We sit there and natter for hours about everything from With Love, Meghan to Trump's tariffs and on to something that, as the owner of a degree in Italian, constantly pains me: the correct pronunciation of bruschetta (broo-sket-ta, please!).
If there's a more classy spot for a girls' weekend I'd love to hear about it. About two hours' drive from Florence airport, but just 30 seconds' walk from the hamlet of Bagno Vignoni, La Posta has three geothermal pools: the scalding one for wallowing, and two at about 28C for (gentle) swimming. They sit in idyllic gardens with panoramic views over a valley that could be used for Tuscan bingo: undulating hills; silvery olive tree; feathery cypresses that unify the landscape while their deep, wide roots interlink to bind the underlying soil and prevent it from being washed away; and the occasional stone farmhouse.
A former general store and post office (hence the name) La Posta was transformed into a hotel in the 1950s by the Marcucci family. In 2017 it was taken over by Michil Costa, the flamboyant and intellectual (he's written a book railing against mass tourism) owner of the deluxe, bijou-hotel chain Casa Costa, who enjoyed his childhood holidays there.
In March, it reopened after extensive renovations to bring it up to five-star standard. The result is a 35-room hotel with every facility you'd expect, including a spa with Santa Maria Novella products, 24-hour room service, floors of Travertine marble and excellent service.
Yet — with Costa a fervent opponent of bland hotel decor — La Posta's also brimming with a quirky charm that makes you feel far more as if you're staying in your eccentric, rich Italian grandmother's country house than some faceless franchise.
Walls are decorated with a mishmash of old paintings and faded photographs; surfaces and glass cabinets are crammed with knick-knacks. The library has well-stocked bookcases, packs of cards and board games, including a Tuscan version of Monopoly in which Mayfair's equivalent is Loro Ciuffenna, a — surprise, surprise — charming hillside town.
Bedrooms are decorated in rich, jewel tones; mine has shades of teal and scarlet with furniture a mix of stylish mid-century and antique. I'm especially taken with the old-fashioned dressing table in my otherwise high-tech bathroom, where I sit blow-drying my hair before every evening's pre-dinner rendezvous at the Bar Verde. There we enjoy some of the most imaginative cocktails I've ever encountered — think a naked and famous made from Picaflor mezcal, Santoni bitters and yellow chartreuse that manages to be smoky-sophisticated and refreshing. The soundtrack comes from the vast selection of records — from Bob Dylan to Meatloaf to Pavarotti — displayed in old suitcases, which we take turns spinning on the record player.
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The stylish La Rocca restaurant has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the valley. The chef Matteo Antoniello is a devotee of local produce (when I shamefully ask for a Coke at the poolside bar, I'm gently but fairly reproved: 'Tuscan only!'). There's tagliatelle with ragu made from the local Chianina beef (I also have it in a mouth-melting peposo Tuscan stew topped with chard). Starters consist of platters of tangy wild-boar salamis, while the cheese trolley has creamy, yet forceful, 24-month-old pecorinos and subtle blue cheeses made from buffalo milk. Ovviamente, wines come mainly from the neighbouring regions Montepulciano and Montalcino, birthplace of vino del momento brunello (mains from £24).
Breakfast's a fabulous all-you-can-eat buffet of pastries, yoghurts, cold meats and fruit. The temptation afterwards is to head straight to the poolside's padded loungers and that extraordinary view. The waters feeding the pools don't contain hydrogen sulphur, so mercifully there's none of the usual, off-putting, eggy smell. Others around the pool are mainly well-heeled Italians, possibly the only nationality to pull off looking cool in a bathrobe and slippers. Some of them are day guests, having paid for £34 (£38 at weekends) to use the pools but not the indoor spa facilities, which include two saunas, a steam room and a Jacuzzi, where we sit chattering — well, OK, shrieking with laughter, until we're politely reprimanded by the charming staff.
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We decide that to justify the next blow-out meal, we need some excursions. The following morning, we head to Bagno Vignoni, an almost parodically picturesque medieval hamlet (population 30), constructed not around a square, but a 59m by 29m steaming-hot aquamarine pool.
'The public's no longer allowed to bathe here because it was becoming a human soup,' our guide, Roberto Guerrini, tells us. Are there ever exceptions? 'When Italy wins the World Cup.' But for millennia before, it was a hub for Etruscans, then Romans, then pilgrims who would halt their 1,200-mile Via Francigena journey between Canterbury and Rome for a much-needed soak.
We follow a sliver of their route, to the nearby town of San Quirico, and continue up a steep strade bianche (white road) that peaks at Vignoni Alto, another toytown-perfect hamlet with views over the valley, straight from every A Place in the Sun fantasy. It's home to just two families. Do they get on? Roberto merely rolls his eyes.
These tiny hill towns were built by city dwellers fleeing the collapsing Roman empire. Their us-against-the-world mentality, combined with the settlements' isolated locations and high surrounding walls made them key headquarters for the Italian resistance during the Nazi occupation. A plaque on Vignoni Alto's ancient walls pays moving tribute to seven locals killed 'by retreating Germans 'in a pointless massacre' on the eve of the liberation. 'Your lives were destroyed at the moment we thought peace had returned.'
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Neighbouring villages bear other reminders of this sad chapter. The following day, at the gates of Monticchiello, another perfectly preserved hamlet (litter is non-existent), our guide for the day Francesca Raspanti, shows us the spot where a group of partisans were lined up to be executed. At the last moment they were reprieved by the Italian wife of a German commander. 'One of those partisans,' Francesca concludes with a broad grin, 'was my grandfather.'
We gain another real-life insight into our dreamy surroundings on a tour of the nearby organic pasta factory, Mulino Val d'Orcia, owned by the same family for three generations. There organic durum wheat from the orderly, surrounding fields is stone-ground and shaped into macaroni, fusilli, penne and cipressini — pasta in the shape of those ubiquitous cypress trees, an irresistible buy from the nearby farm shop. There, in its walled garden, pigeons coo and bunnies hop in the long grass as we enjoy a hearty plate of its pici (thick spaghetti) with tomato and wild garlic sauce topped with viscous, spicy olive oil (tour with lunch £42; mulinovaldorcia.it).
These villages and many more can be easily reached from La Posta by either car, or (hearty) walking trails, or on ebikes that can be rented in Bagno Vignoni (£38 for eight hours; ciclofficineteatropovero.it). After a morning touring, back at the hotel it's straight into our swimming costumes and to the gossip bench, to soak our muscles and yak some more. If only the trio from The White Lotus had chosen La Posta instead of Thailand, they could have skipped all the bickering and headed straight to the final scenes of joyous, female bonding.
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Julia Llewellyn Smith was a guest of La Posta, which has B&B doubles from £255 (lapostahotel.it). Fly to Florence
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