La Rioja makes life easy for the independent traveller, just as long as you don’t brave the mountains in an elderly car.

“So if I understand you señor, you are stuck up a rough mountain track somewhere on the backside of Rioja’s highest mountain?” The response from the breakdown assistance people would probably not have been as polite but I gave them the benefit of the doubt in the imagined conversation running through my head.

I was bumping along in second gear on a rocky track leading steeply up the side of a thickly wooded mountainside. Apart from passing some grazing cattle, the “road” was deserted. This, along with the dust in my mouth and the bone-jarring ride, told me it was perhaps a route better attempted in a 4X4, not an aged Volkswagen.

Aside from an unreliable map, I was half way up a Spanish mountain because I fancied seeing a bit of Rioja that visitors usually don’t get to see. Since arriving in the wine-making town of Haro, I had spent several leisurely days touring the area’s peaceful villages and vineyards – and of course, trying out Rioja’s famous wine.

My plan had been to combine a tour of the area by car with some cycling so I could enjoy the countryside and do some wine tasting without worrying about driving. Haro has around 20 bodegas, many of them grouped around the station across the river from town.

The region has three distinct zones: Rioja Alta around Haro where the some of the best wines are produced; Rioja Álavesa in the north, which is in the Basque province of Álava; and Rioja Baja, which borders Navarra province to the east. I set off for San Vincente de la Sonsierra, a pretty hilltop village at the southern end of a finger of the Rioja Alta jutting into Álava.

Bounded to the south by the Río Ebro, which snakes its way through the Rioja, and the jagged Sierra de Toloño to the north, it’s a conveniently compact area to explore. Although it’s a steep climb on a bike, the view from the castle above San Vincente makes the exertion worthwhile and it’s an easy coast back down to the main square.

A couple of hours later, fortified by a lunch of patatas a la Riojana - a stew of potatoes and chorizo – and a few glasses of wine, I climbed back on my bike for the short ride up to the neighbouring village of Ábalos. My destination was Bodegas Puelles, a small estate owned by the Puelles family since 1844 and currently run by two brothers, Jesús and Félix.

Their vineyard is one of many small-scale operations in Rioja that contrast dramatically with the big-name properties such as Marqués de Riscal and Ysios. The former is a swish of purple-flecked metallic curves designed by Frank Gehry, the architect of Bilbao’s Guggenheim, while the latter, designed by Santiago Calatrava, is topped by undulations replicating the outline of the towering sierra behind.

While these large wineries are worth visiting, I liked the rustic feel at Puelles and the fact it was the wine-maker himself showing me around. As we walked, Jesús explained the wine-making process, from the Tempranillo grapes being unloaded into a dumper and de-stemmed to the final labelling and packaging. After inspecting the rows of oak barrels lined up in the cellars beneath the winery, Jesús began uncorking some of his products.

Being car-less I happily participated in the generous tasting session before free-wheeling down the hill into Ábalos en route to my next stop, Laguardia. The medieval fortress town in Rioja Álavesa sits high on a hill surrounded by vines, and after strolling around its narrow lanes, I followed a path beneath the high walls to watch the sun setting over Rioja. My day ended in one of the little bars I had passed earlier on the cobbled streets, with a glass of wine and a few pintxos (Basque version of tapas).

The next morning I made the short drive into Logroño, the capital of Rioja. An important stop-off on the Camino de Santiago, which runs through Rioja, I followed a stream of pilgrims over the Río Ebro into the city.

From the outskirts the swathe of modern apartment blocks isn’t enticing, but the city centre is an enjoyable blend of broad, pedestrianised streets, squares and narrow lanes. The cafés around the Plaza del Mercado beside the twin-towered cathedral are popular with weary walkers, who kick off their boots and relax before carrying on their way. Nearby is the Museo de la Rioja, with an interesting collection of sculpture and religious art, including some paintings on permanent loan from the Prado. Behind the museum are the old town’s best tapas bars and the covered market, which provides the ingredients for many of their offerings, including Rioja’s famous red peppers.
From Logroño I headed westwards following the Camino de Santiago route, as the vineyards gave way to fields and small farming villages, until I reached Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Sitting beside the Río Oja, the river from which Rioja takes its name, the town itself was named after an 11th century hermit who built a causeway (calzada) and a hospital for the passing pilgrims. The hospital beside the cathedral has now been converted into a luxury parador hotel where well-heeled pilgrims can take a rest.

From Santo Domingo it’s a short run into the foothills of the Sierra de la Demanda to San Millán de la Cogolla, said to be the cradle of the Spanish language. It was here in the Monastery of Suso that the oldest examples of written Spanish were found in books transcribed in the 10th century by monks. The day I visited it wasn’t possible to enter the monastery but it’s a beautiful spot, set among the oak trees and pines halfway up the valley-side, and there’s a lovely walk back down a woodland track to the larger Monastery of Yuso. Here you can tour round the Benedictine cloisters and see some of the carefully preserved three-foot high leather-bound religious tomes in the library. As I left the car park I noticed that the road which had brought me to the monastery continued on up the valley towards the towering mass of Rioja’s highest mountain, the 2,260m San Lorenzo.
Which brings me back to my mountain escapade. I could have gone back the way I had come but the idea of getting off the beaten track appealed to me. My map said there was a road that led over the mountains to Ezcaray, Rioja’s only winter sports resort and my next destination. So off I went.
It began well, but then the tarmac ran out. Common sense said turn back, but I was determined to press on. An hour later I had cleared the tree line but my appreciation of the views was being hampered by a growing fear that my car was about to conk out.

The appearance of San Lorenzo’s summit and the pylons of the ski-lift ahead did nothing to ease my fears and it was only when the track levelled out and began running down into the next valley that I began to enjoy the mountain scenery around me. I was glad to have had a glimpse of a wilder side to Rioja but equally happy to be heading back to its relaxing vineyards and villages.