A paradise for skiers, the Italian Alps of South Tyrol offer a more placid pastime that’s surging anew. A host of spas are sprouting up in isolated tracts among the highlands, and though there’s hiking, biking and access to some of the Alps’ easier ski slopes, sports are a mere afterthought here. The spas draw skiers and nonskiers alike to spend days soaking in hot tubs, besotted by the view of these commanding, ice-shrouded peaks.

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, when mineral springs became Europe’s cure-all for medical ills, wellness seekers flocked to the region’s famous waters and sanitariums. Today’s alpine spas are updating this long tradition as the present-day search for wellness has reinvigorated the desire for their timeless sedative effects.

For those of us who have forgotten what a multitude of stars looks like, the Italian Alps offer an immersion into lost wonders of contemporary life. Untrammeled snow. Unsullied air. A velvet cloak of silence. And the immeasurable reprieve of poor cellphone receptions.

It’s little surprise that these mountains have become the locus of a cluster of modern spa destinations designed to draw city dwellers to a place where tranquillity imposes itself by the very nature of the landscape.

In December, I headed to the Alps to see how these age-old cures stood up to our high-intensity era of stress and self-care, visiting four contemporary spas set amid the summits of Italy’s South Tyrol region.

These spa hotels are dramatically modern, with bold architecture and cutting-edge restaurants. Their pools, saunas and hot tubs are designed for a forward-looking aesthetic and include outdoor heated pools that allow visitors to enjoy the mountain views alfresco, even when surrounded by snow. Though the look is up-to-date, the cures — hot soaks, massages, mountain air — are classic, and beckon a new generation in search of health and relaxation.

In their heyday, spas were metropolitan affairs, situated in cities like Merano. Health-seekers flocked to them for their restorative waters and for the society they provided at the theaters, casinos and dance halls that were common resort amenities.

In ancient times, the bathhouses that the Romans adapted from the Greek tradition were even more integral to cosmopolitan life. There were 952 bathhouses in Rome by 354 A.D.; they often included libraries, gyms, lecture halls, medical treatment facilities and gardens. The Baths of Diocletian alone accommodated up to 3,000 visitors at a time.

Today bathhouses are rare on our city maps, and serenity is a luxury reserved for infrequent vacations. Spas now must be deep in the woods, the dislocation and the staggering view of the mountains the only way to finally subdue us.

To pull back the morning curtains on this jagged expanse — the rocky massifs jangling in the bright sun or softened by fields of fresh falling snow — is to wake up to the grandeur of the greater world that, in our insular daily lives, we so easily forget.

Of course, the mountain views are just the beginning. There is a spa. A saltwater, womb-warm pool, constructed of the local silvery quartzite rock and filled by a nearby spring, extends from inside to out, where steam rises off the surface into the chilly air as visitors bob and recline, enveloped in Jacuzzi bubbles as they contemplate the horizon’s mammoth stony outcroppings. Two pinewood saunas, one filled with Tyrolean hay and its sharp, dry-earth perfume, offer panoramic views of the rough-chiseled topography. In the saunas — as in all the saunas of this area — genders are mingled and nude or lightly wrapped in towels. But as long as you’re comfortable glimpsing bare bodies, the personal sensation of simmering your own swimsuit-free body is, frankly, worth it.

Adler’s spa offers a post-excursion massage using Alpine arnica extract and mud to soothe overexerted legs, but no one seems to be in a great stink to get sporty here. There are options, though: The area offers a paradise for hikers, electric bikes are available in the summer and you can ski right out of the locker-room door onto mountain paths in the winter. The trails are wide and easy, and guests generally hit the slopes for a couple of hours at most. “Our slopes are good for cruising and enjoying the view,” says Nicol Lobis, a staff member at Adler Mountain Lodge. “But people come here to relax, not to burn their thighs to the max on black diamond slopes.” And besides, the bar is open all day.

For all its healthy overtones, Adler is an all-inclusive resort, serving up plentiful, thrice-daily meals and snacks in between. An all-hours bread and cheese buffet, like the well-stocked bar, is self-serve, giving the stay a decidedly more indulgent slant.

Set a few steps outside the hotel’s lodge, an elevated pinewood and glass cabin — Miramonti’s forest sauna — allows guests to enjoy Finnish heat while surveying the surrounding copse of firs and the mountain crests in the distance. A hot tub is tucked into nearby bushes. Smart, ash-gray linen recliners line the indoor and outdoor observation deck with a view over the valley. But this slickly modern spa shines brightest with its design-forward, photo-ready outdoor infinity pool, partially covered by a pitched cottage roof and jutting out to seemingly hover above the precipice. Floating at the water’s edge, with the city beneath silenced by its remoteness, the pool’s projection offers a vantage point of quiet calm; the hushed, hulking mountains seem to be all yours.

What does it take to relax these days? As the stresses of work, life and the modern world pile up, perhaps we ought, like Romans, to let our heads float in womb-like bubbles more often.

At theSan Luis, I tried a massage, although days of spas had — I thought — already rendered my body the tender consistency of a jellyfish. Yet the masseuse paused as her fingertips alighted on my spine. “Do you spend a lot of time working at a desk?” Well, yes.

She kneaded a constellation of unexpected knots around my shoulder blades, clucking that everyone she saw these days had the same condition. “You need a massage once a week, or you’ll damage your back.” Need, she told me. Need.Did the Romans, with their weekly spa-time and scheduled self-care, have knots in their backs? Perhaps the masseuse is right. Need indeed.

FollowNY Times Travel on Twitter,Instagram andFacebook.Get weekly updates from our Travel Dispatch newsletter, with tips on traveling smarter, destination coverage and photos from all over the world.