Rioja Route by Peter D Smith

It was one of those deliciously sunny May afternoons, the sea as smooth as silk as the Brittany Ferries vessel slipped gently out of Portsmouth harbour, new apartment blocks lining the waterfront, past the 'Victory' on one side, the Isle of Wight on the other, then out into the open sea, the wind freshening, but the sun shining strongly, making it a perfect afternoon for an al fresco picnic, with a good bottle of wine, at the back of the boat, hidden from the wind.

Five hours later the French coast heaved into view and by late evening we had arrived in Caen, where we spent the night. Then down to Bordeaux the next day, stopping on the banks of the Loire near Tours for lunch en route. Bordeaux is regarded as the wine capital of the world and I must admit the evening meal, after the drive, easy though it is on France's uncluttered highways, was very welcome, accompanied by a bottle of a very good white wine — a Bordeaux Blanc, naturally.

But whilst it is always fun for wine-lovers — or even just lovers — to spend some time in Bordeaux this trip had another wine region in mind and so the next morning we headed further south, stopping in Biarritz for lunch before crossing the border into Spain and heading west towards Bilbao where we spent another night and enjoyed, or perhaps experienced, the Guggenheim Museum. Not my taste in art, I'll admit, but the building itself is worth going to see, set on the banks of the Nervión river. As a painter it is always interesting to see the work of great artists and you learn from everyone you see — a little technique here, a play of the light there.

By lunchtime it was sizzling as we headed south into Rioja, a relatively tiny piece of Spain but the one which produces without doubt, that country's best and most famous wines. A lazy afternoon's drive got us, by about 4 o'clock (time for tea, I thought!) to the beautiful little town of Santa Domingo de la Calzada, on the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage route. In the centre of the town, right next to the Cathedral, is one of the many hostelries you find along this route (or routes, for there are several of them converging on Compostela from various starting points spread across Europe) and a constant stream of hot-looking pilgrims laden with backpacks, as well as the more fortunate who came on bicycles, made their grateful way to the cool interior of the building, for food and a bed for the night. There is no charge for this, though the pilgrims are invited to leave a donation, according to their means. It is an amazing system and works well. The roads leading to and from Santa Domingo are busy with those heading west from early morning until late afternoon, though most rest in the midday sun, at little inns or refuges. They need to be fit and resourceful and, that evening at a bar in town, we spoke with a couple who were making the pilgrimage from Toulouse via the aptly-named Camino Frances — but like many they were not making the entire trek in one go, but spreading it out over three years, in stages. Quite sensible.

Santa Domingo de la Calzada is one of those little Spanish towns you imagine in your dreams — it has everything: an ancient cathedral, little alleyways and pasajes where the houses, mellow and full of character, lean towards each other, providing cover from the heat of the midday sun; bars and restaurants almost afraid to advertise their presence, a centuries-old bridge straddling the gurgling River Oja; and two glorious paradors set in ancient palaces, in one of which we stayed for a few nights.

Set in Plaza del Santo, bang opposite the cathedral, the main parador was a hospital in bygone days, all arches, high ceilings, wide staircases and interior courtyards where the infirm could sit in the fresh air yet remain protected from the rasping sun. Confortable, not too expensive and with an excellent restaurant that opened its doors, in typical Spanish fashion, at 8.30 pm and not a moment before. Before that you stroll the pedestrianised town stopping at a couple of bars on the way. The other parador is in the old convent of San Francisco though we only stopped there for a drink in the bar — it also looked superb. The old part of the town was a painter's paradise with so many wonderful buildings to paint, or at least sketch for later paintings. Outside the town the vistas were stunning with amazingly stormy looking skies and fields of poppies, sunflowers and vines reaching towards the horizon.

The following evening, about 6 pm, after a morning spent in the immensely rich and interesting cathedral, and an afternoon meandering round little villages in this part of Spain as yet untouched by mass tourism it was time to pay a visit to one of the Masters of Rioja wines — David Moreno. A very successful producer of wine David (he pronounces his name the English — or should that be Welsh? — way too) lives above the 'shop' and his daughter made a delightful guide for the first part of our visit through the cool, dark cellars where millions of euros-worth of wines were slowly fermenting, some for 15 years or more. The tempranillo grape is the most widely used here producing dark reds vibrant with flavour and his Vobiscum wine is the bee's-knees. A maximum of 2400 barrels are produced a year. You can taste several wines here, which we did with David as he lovingly described the methods he uses with each of his "children" — a man who is very passionately involved in his work, and why not?

You can buy direct — ideal if you have the car with you — and, if you are ordering enough (the amount varies with each wine) you can have your own label produced, to give to friends or just use at home, a definite piece of one-upmanship.

The following lunchtime we spent a very pleasant few hours at the Bodegas Ramirez de la Piscina, in San Vicente de Sonsierra, again a family-run affair that dates back to the 11th century and now produces just under 2 million bottles per year. An exquisite restaurant with magnificent service awaits those who wish to dine there, lunchtime or evening and although the meals are set there are choices — though it's so much fun letting others make the choice, especially with food as good as this.

But then it was time to head for home and we chose a different route. After re-crossing the Picos de Europa, climbing to almost 9000 feet on a wonderfully picturesque highway that ran round the mountains and occasionally under them, we were back on the coast close to the city that is now regarded as the culinary capital of Spain — San Sebastian. But more about that some other time.

And from there the easiest way back home is non-stop — by boat. Brittany Ferries has a three-times a week service which departs about 5pm, docking in Plymouth after breakfast the next morning. The food on board is pretty good and crossing the Bay of Biscay in late evening when we were still sitting outside with an apéritif we were followed for ten minutes or so by a shoal of dolphins, jumping and playing as the boat ploughed northwards.