Lorraine Williamson
The first time you witness La Batalla del Vino, it’s like stepping into a surreal painting — part sacred ritual, part anarchic water fight, only instead of water, it’s Rioja red.
In Haro, the capital of wine country in northern Spain, locals and intrepid travellers climb a mountain at dawn every 29 June to honour their patron saint in the most un-Spanish way imaginable: by drenching each other in thousands of litres of wine.
There’s no flamenco, no tapas, and certainly no moderation. Just gallons of purple liquid, roaring laughter, and the unforgettable squelch of wine-soaked trainers on ancient stone paths.
A spirited history rooted in faith
At its core, La Batalla del Vino is a religious affair. The town of Haro celebrates San Pedro (Saint Peter) with a mass at the hermitage of San Felices de Bilibio, perched dramatically atop a cliff overlooking the vineyards of La Rioja. But sometime in the late 19th or early 20th century — no one can quite agree when — the mass was followed by a rather unholy tradition: dousing each other in the region’s finest export.
Over time, the wine splashing outshone the prayers. What began as a cheeky local custom morphed into one of Spain’s most visually arresting and joyous festivals, earning official recognition as a Fiesta of National Tourist Interest.
The day begins in white — and ends in purple
By 7.00 am on June 29, the usually sleepy streets of Haro buzz with life. Revellers dressed in crisp white shirts and red scarves gather in the town centre, many already carrying bottles, buckets, or full-blown garden sprayers filled with red wine. They pile into cars, tractors or on foot and ascend to the Riscos de Bilibio, the rocky outcrop above the Ebro River, ready for battle.
The rules? There are none — only that everyone gets soaked. Wine flies through the air in every direction. Some aim for friends. Others fire indiscriminately into the crowd. The mass is held (in theory) but often drowned out by cheers, music, and the gurgling splash of wine hitting flesh.
By midday, every inch of white is tinged with violet, faces are sticky, and laughter ricochets around the cliffs.
Not just for show: A deeply local ritual
Unlike some of Spain’s better-known fiestas, Haro’s wine battle isn’t built for Instagram — though it certainly delivers. This is still a festival by and for the locals, many of whom have taken part since childhood. Grandparents square up to teenagers with plastic buckets. Families pack sandwiches and jugs of tinto. And there’s an unmistakable pride in the chaos — a sense that this is theirs, not just a performance for tourists.
And while the party is undoubtedly wild, there’s a surprising amount of order behind the madness. Once the wine battle ends, everyone traipses back to the town for the traditional almuerzo (a late breakfast of snails, lamb chops and wine — naturally), followed by parades, bull runs, music and more drinking through the night.
The atmosphere: Joy, mayhem and community
To be there is to surrender. The air smells of sweet must and mountain grass. Shoes squelch. Hugs come from wine-streaked strangers. And there’s something liberating about letting go — of appearances, of inhibitions, of sobriety — in such a stunning setting.
Despite the wine, there’s no aggression. It’s festive, friendly, and surprisingly respectful. You’ll hear “¡perdona!” before a splash lands and “¡salud!” from a grinning abuela who’s just drenched you head to toe. Laughter is the universal soundtrack, rising over the chants of local brass bands and the rhythmic beat of the charangas winding through Haro’s cobbled lanes.
How to Survive (and Enjoy) La Batalla del Vino
Wear white — but not your favourite white
You won’t stay clean for long. Opt for old clothes you don’t mind ruining, and definitely bring a change for later.
Bring your own ammo
Locals come prepared with bottles, water pistols, even wine-filled backpacks with hoses. Anything that sprays is fair game — just keep it Rioja.
Don’t wear anything precious
That includes shoes, phones or contact lenses. Consider protective glasses and a waterproof bag. You’ll thank yourself.
Respect the roots
Even with all the madness, this is still tied to a religious procession. If you stay for the mass, keep noise to a respectful level.
Hydrate (with water, too)
Yes, it’s a wine festival. But it’s also summer, it’s early, and you’re climbing hills. Drink water between battles — your head will appreciate it.
Make time for the town
After the battle, Haro transforms into a buzzing hub of parades, food and open-air music. Stick around and soak up the atmosphere — preferably after a shower.
So, why go?
Because nowhere else in the world lets you bless a saint by pouring wine on a stranger’s head before breakfast. Because it’s absurd and life-affirming and deeply Spanish. Because in a country famous for fiestas, La Batalla del Vino manages to feel both timeless and totally unique.
And perhaps most of all, because for one day in late June, you get to throw the rules — and several litres of red — into the air and watch them land in a sea of shared, joyous chaos.
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