Lorraine Williamson
The 2025 Spanish harvest began under extremes that would test even the most resilient winemaker. Spring brought relentless rain, fuelling mildew outbreaks across the south. By July, conditions had flipped to brutal heat and drought, leaving vineyards parched.
Then came wildfires, sweeping dangerously close to Galicia’s treasured godello and mencía vines. In this climate rollercoaster, Spain’s harvest has become a story not of abundance but of survival — and possibly of brilliance.
Working by moonlight
The new face of Spanish winegrowing is not the sunlit harvest but the nocturnal one. With afternoon temperatures too fierce, crews now work in the still hours of the night. Lamps, head torches and tractor beams illuminate the rows, giving a surreal glow to the vineyards of Extremadura, La Mancha and Galicia.
Beyond tradition, this practice is survival strategy: it preserves the freshness of the grapes and slows premature fermentation. What once was rare is fast becoming the norm.
The mildew battle
If fire dominated the headlines in the north-west, fungus has haunted the south. Mildew struck Jerez, Málaga and the coastal hills of the Axarquía, wiping out huge parts of the crop. Some bodegas speak of losing half their grapes. Even so, in pockets such as Ronda, survivors are holding small but concentrated berries. Sherry houses expect bottlings to fall sharply, yet they also predict wines of striking intensity.
Prestige under pressure
In Rioja, the country’s benchmark region, hail and fungal disease reduced one of the smallest harvests in recent memory. But viticulturists stress that quality often emerges in scarcity. The grapes that survived are compact, healthy and full of flavour — traits that bode well for long-lived reds. “This year won’t be remembered for volume,” one grower remarked, “but perhaps for greatness.”
Rioja´s century of wine heritage
Fire on the horizon
Further west, Galicia’s anxiety is elemental. Flames licked at the edges of Monterrei and Valdeorras, both celebrated for crisp whites and elegant reds. Entire parcels have been lost, a devastating blow in denominations already producing limited volumes. Here the harvest is as much an act of defiance as of agriculture: each crate of grapes rescued from the smoke feels like victory.
The outsiders: Steady amid the storm
Not every region has suffered equally. Cebreros in Ávila, largely spared from hail and mildew, began picking albillo real and garnacha tinta early. Somontano, in the foothills of the Pyrenees, faced delays due to fire risk but expects 17.5 million kilos of healthy fruit. For smaller appellations like these, consistency matters as much as yield.
Scarcity becomes character
Across Spain, one truth rings clear: fewer grapes, but greater personality. Stress on the vines has resulted in smaller berries with concentrated sugars and tannins, the building blocks of memorable wines. Winemakers from Cádiz to Catalonia predict that the bottles eventually released from 2025 will not only be scarce but sought after.
From struggle to legacy
Spain has always made wine in adversity, from phylloxera plagues to civil war. The 2025 vintage, defined by floods, fires and fungus, now joins that lineage. For consumers, it means fewer bottles on the shelves — but also a rare chance to taste wines shaped by extremes.
In the end, this harvest may be remembered not for what was lost, but for the resilience of the vines, and the determination of those who pick them under smoke-filled skies and starry nights.