The words “vegan yoga retreat” terrify me. I’m an internet, pulled-pork and sarcasm kind of guy. However, an increasing number of my friends have started raving about the life-changing effects of yoga, mindfulness and conscious-eating, and what I’m even more scared of is missing out. So, to find out what all the fuss is about, I’ve signed up for a week with Chaya Yoga Retreats to explore all three, figuring that even if it’s a living hell, the beds will hopefully be comfy.

Founded by wellbeing food coach Lucy Hill, Chaya has been running retreats for five years, offering yoga immersions in beautiful locations, from weekends in the UK to longer trips in Bali or India. We’re closer to home – a magnificent, remote château in the Toulouse countryside, with beautiful spacious rooms (mostly twin share, though some sleep four). It sits high above rolling fields, and the views stretch to the snow-capped Pyrenees. At night, the sky is hung with a million jewels, clouded only by the Milky Way. It may be the most peaceful place I’ve ever been.

Before arriving, I’d worried about not fitting in, and pictured people putting crystals on aubergines and chanting (I’ve smuggled some Haribo Tangfastics in, just in case). But the six others in the group – all women ranging from their mid-20s to mid-40s, all here on their own – are friendly and “normal”. The atmosphere is familial and supportive. Which is lucky, because I am about to seriously embarrass myself.

Until this week I’ve attended just one yoga class in my life, where I discovered I had the core strength of a bag of onions. Everyone else has been practising for at least a year. I’ve been assured that the retreat is suitable for complete beginners though, and, amazingly, our teacher, Annie Clarke, soon gets me up to speed, offering extra attention in class and round-the-clock advice. I learn sun salutations, cobras, downward-facing dogs; then I learn how to do them properly, which is much harder. Annie is an experienced teacher and Instagram sensation (@mind_body_bowl), with more than 83,000 followers. She’s willowy, kind and wise, a bit like the alien species from Avatar, but not blue. Every morning she takes us through two hours of vinyasa flow (a kind of continually moving routine that I slowly get the hang of), and for 90 minutes every evening we practise yin yoga, a stiller discipline in which uncomfortable poses are held for long periods to increase flexibility in the body’s deep tissues. I once did interrogation training with ex-SAS soldiers; the yin poses reminded me of stress positions they put me in, but somehow worse.

This is an intense amount of yoga, but luckily there is plenty of down time in the afternoon, when we can go on walks, have treatments, read or nap. Each Chaya retreat has a theme and ours is “kind”. In other words, being kind to yourself and listening to your body. Nurture and abundance are guiding principles.

I needn’t have worried about starving, either. Our in-house chef, Laura Paine, spends her days sourcing local ingredients for the kitchen. She’s also the coolest person to walk the Earth. A former model, who trained as a chef in New York, she’ll occasionally drop nuggets like “My father was a gaucho,” into the conversation.

We eat twice a day and snack at tea time, with leftovers and teas always available. Brunch takes in carrot cake porridge, superfood granola, grilled grapefruit, herb-oil polenta (and there’s even scrambled eggs and “contraband croissants” for those who want it). Dinners are multi-course and extravagant: raw pad thai, beet bourgignon, Indian feasts.

Not once do I think about what isn’t on the plate, so gluttonous is my embrace of what is. And Lucy gives great workshops in making sushi, sticky cauliflower rice, nut mylks and raw chocolate brownies too.

Lucy is a raver and former wild-child, her laptop cover bearing a rainbow blazon of the Sanskrit word Om. “People don’t find veganism sexy, so it’s been rebranded as ‘plant-based food’,” she laughs. Her diet is free of meat and refined sugar; she prioritises seasonal, often raw, food. But on occasion she’s also partial to fish, chips, gin and tonic. She’s my kind of person. “Don’t worry about giving things up,” she advises me. “When you move toward eating more whole foods, your body will automatically start craving healthier things.”

As the week wears on, my mindset changes. I come to appreciate how yoga, particularly yin, calms my mind chatter. I learn greater focus, control of my body, and awareness of emotions without getting swept up in them. I notice shifts in my feelings of vigour and mental wellbeing. I stop worrying how I look in class, or feeling competitive with others. Having said that, it is unbelievably cool when Annie teaches me to stand on my head like a ninja.

It’s not all still water. Strong emotions surface in everyone’s practice. Our meditations go deeper and longer, cementing the group’s bond. In a breath workshop with Nicola Price, where we learn about our habitual breathing patterns and what they may repress, I’m racked with tears with no idea why. From snot-nosed weeping to loving cuddles, there are feelings everywhere, as is the sense this is a safe place to feel them – even as a man. Everyone here has a different need for self care: getting over breakups, personal dilemmas or simply to unplug from the pace of urban life.

“People often come on retreat when they’re desperate,” Lucy says. “I like to give them a toolkit, show them they can live like this everyday.”

It’s strange how in a matter of days an imposing château can feel like a family home. We pad around in soft clothes, snoozing in corners, chatting and laughing. It feels like my idea of a kibbutz, except I haven’t done any work. Meals have been prepared and cleared away, fires lit. It’s indulgent, but the mental space freed up by a chore-free week has had a transformative effect. I feel lighter, fitter, more open, less chained to my phone. The only injury I sustained was grazing an elbow when I fell out of a hammock; is there a better metaphor for how relaxed it’s possible to feel?

Back home, the effect remains surprisingly profound. I eat far less meat, meditate most days, and am hooked on yoga; in fact I’ve been banging on about it to everyone I know. As far as retreats go, I’ve definitely drunk the Kool Aid. Or rather, the hemp matcha mylkshake. And I never even touched the Tangfastics.
• Seven-day Chaya retreat at Château Benque from £950; the next retreat is 17-23 September. Four-day retreats in the UK from £495. Flights were provided by British Airways, returns from Heathrow to Toulouse from £76