Floatation Tank

In the movie Altered States William Hurt's character locks himself into a sensory deprivation tank, scoffs some naughty drugs and has some very odd experiences. Cue his regressing backwards through evolution and turning into a hairy monkey version of himself. I wasn't quite hoping for such a big change, but I was interested to see what it would be like to lock myself in a tank of warm goo and shut out the outside world for a while. So that's exactly what I did.

First of all, the people who're in the floatation tank business aren't really touting it as a journey into the heart of darkness. They're on more of a de-stressing kick.

If you've not heard about it before, a floatation tank is exactly what it sounds like. Inside the big plastic pod is about 30cm of warm salty water and enough room for you to float about merrily. To be precise, the water is bang on body temperature, and the salt is over 700lbs of Epsom salts, so that you are nice and buoyant. The idea is to shut off all your senses and just float happily by yourself.

Sounds nice, I thought. Plus sciencey types find this kind of thing interesting because many people have reported that in the absence of sensory input their brain starts making stuff up. Hmmm, legalised hallucination? Intriguing.

So off I toddled to visit the nice folks at Floatworks. Now, I wasn't after any kind of drug-fuelled monkey-regression, but their choice of a nondescript security door down a back alley as their main entrance did make me feel a little bit like I was doing something illicit. I must admit, I pressed their buzzer with a twinkle in my eye.

However, once inside it turned out to be more corporate hippy than Colombian drug lord. In reception you exchange your shoes for some slippers and are taken to your private room to meet your big pink pod. Then you're left alone for your allotted hour.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Surely if they leave you alone for an hour, there's nothing to stop you rolling a fat one before getting all nuded up and jumping in the tank. And you'd be right. You'd probably also not be the first person to think that, as a wee warning about floating under the influence of drink or drugs was specifically included in the form you signed in reception. Lets face it, it must happen, but they'd probably also be have a right to be cross with you if they caught you. Me, I wanted to experience the whole thing for what it was, so strictly no pharmaceuticals went down my neck.

The tank itself is pretty big, and has a light inside if you get lonely. There's speakers inside that play you soothing sounds of whales singing Barry Manilow (or something) for the first 10mins in case you have trouble winding down.

So what's it like? Mystical experience? Intensely restful? Boring as hell?

Er, all of the above actually. Since there's no-one there but you, it's always going to be quite a personal experience, so I'd suggest not giving it a go if you don't really like yourself. I found it works on both a mental and physical level. One obvious effect is that you've absolutely no idea of the passing of time, because you have nothing to compare your thoughts to. So it's a brief time of true stream-of-consciousness existence. That's pretty cool, in itself.

Physically, it's a very, very groovy and relaxing experience. The buoyancy of the water is amazing, and I'd fully recommend it for anybody that ever has any trouble with their back. After a while mine automatically clicked itself back into a position that made me feel absolutely fantastic. As for sensory deprivation, I'm not so sure, since unless you can lie perfectly still for an hour, you'll always have the feeling of the water lapping at you. Plus if you get any of the salty water in your eyes it stings like an utter bastard. Searing pain and lapping water notwithstanding, it is proper, proper dark and quiet. So dark that in fact I did have mild visual hallucinations at one point, although nothing too trippy.

Eventually, you're gently encouraged to drag your floppy carcass out of the tank by the return of the whale shagging soundtrack. Another quick shower to rinse the salt off and it's back to realty. And this is when the shit really hits the fan.

I found I was so damn chilled out that I struggled to navigate my way out of the building. I wandered the corridors smiling feebly at everybody, and they smiled feebly back. If anybody had said anything to me, I'm sure I would have called them "dude". Needless to say, I didn't get lost and die, possibly thanks to big friendly signs on the walls leading the way out. This is where the dodgy back-alley location really comes to the front. The critical part of the whole floaty experience isn't so much what you do when you're in the tank; it's what you do afterwards. Emerging onto a bustling street would have been unpleasantly jarring, so it was nice to be let out into somewhere a bit quieter. Personally, I'm lucky enough to live nearby, so I walked home down the south bank of the Thames . It was a beautiful sunny spring afternoon, I had some slinky house music on my headphones and I wandered home feeling ten feet tall and decidedly gr-ooooooooooovy.

Other nice things to do nearby include Borough Market if you're a foodie or The London Dungeon if you're a pantomime psychopath.

All up, I'd fully recommend the whole floating lark, although I'd also say that it's a much nicer thing to give or receive than to have to pay for. They do gift vouchers, so avoid sullying the whole experience with a venal exchange of monies, and give it as a gift to someone you like. Hopefully they'll reciprocate, and you're sorted.

Give the gift of warm goo, and not in a porno way, either.

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