Bilbao to Rioja: 3 Wineries, Laguardia & Gehry Hotel Tour

4.97

(132 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“You ever tried wine straight from a cave?” That’s how our guide, Iker, kicked things off as we rolled into La Rioja from Bilbao — and honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. The air outside was cool but smelled faintly sweet, like earth after rain. We ducked under stone arches into a winery hidden beneath an old village. It was dim and echoey down there; you could hear every footstep on the old floorboards. The first tasting was poured into my glass — deep red, almost purple. I swirled it (trying to look like I knew what I was doing), and the taste was… different. Richer? Maybe just fresher because of where we were. Hard to say, but I still think about that first sip.

The next stop was at a family-run place — smaller, warmer somehow. Their dog greeted us before anyone else did (tail wagging like mad). We sat at a long wooden table while their daughter brought out olive oil so green it looked fake, plus bread that crackled when you tore it open. The chorizo had this smoky bite that made me wish I’d skipped breakfast. Our local guide explained how some of these vines were older than her grandfather — which made me laugh because she couldn’t have been more than twenty-five herself. Tasting the wines here felt less formal; someone kept topping up my glass before I finished.

Lunch in Laguardia was noisy in the best way — locals shouting greetings across the bar, forks clinking on plates. We picked pintxos almost at random (I still can’t pronounce half of them), then wandered through narrow streets while the sun bounced off ancient stone walls. There’s this spot overlooking the Ebro Valley where everything goes quiet for a second except for birds and distant voices — kind of peaceful but also makes you realize how much history is packed into these hills.

We finished near the Frank Gehry-designed hotel — all swooping metal ribbons against blue sky and vineyards stretching forever. It looked almost out of place until you saw how everyone stopped to stare or snap a photo anyway. On the drive back to Bilbao I realized my hands still smelled faintly like grapes and olive oil. Not sure if that’s normal or if I just got too enthusiastic with the tastings.