Day 3: Villafranca del Bierzo to Santiago de Compostela

There are days on tour that do everything right from the moment you push the sidestand up. Day 3 was one of those days.

We pulled out of the Parador de Villafranca del Bierzo in the morning — a proper Spanish parador, the kind of place that makes you linger over breakfast longer than you should. But the road was calling, and Galicia was waiting.

One of the GS Adventures parked up on a cobbled bridge — Galicia’s green valley stretching out behind.

Into the Mountains

About an hour out of Villafranca, the road started to climb. We were heading up into the mountains that form the spine between León and Galicia — long sweeping bends, pine forests closing in on either side, the air getting cooler and sharper with every hundred metres of altitude gained. This is the kind of road Wild Roads was built for.

We dropped down into the valley at Samos for a coffee stop. If you’ve never heard of Samos, it’s a tiny village that exists almost entirely in the shadow of one of the oldest Benedictine monasteries in Europe — the Monasterio de San Julián de Samos. It looms over the river valley, all stone and slate and centuries of quiet, with a church dome that you can see from half a mile away through the trees.

The Monastery of San Julián de Samos — one of the oldest in Europe, tucked into the river valley.

A Long Lunch by the River

We pressed on deeper into the Galician mountains after Samos, following roads that wound along river valleys and through dense eucalyptus forest — proper green roads, the kind you don’t find further south in Spain. The landscape had completely changed. This was Atlantic Spain: lush, mossy, constantly shifting between sun and cloud.

Lunch was at a café by the river, one of those Galician roadside places that doesn’t look like much from the outside but turns out to be exactly what you need. The group settled in around a long table, plates of grilled chicken and chips arrived, the wine came out, and nobody was in any hurry to leave.

Long table lunch in Galicia — and a bottle of Casa Grande do Bachao Albariño, Rías Baixas. That’s Galicia in a glass.

That Albariño — Casa Grande do Bachao, Rías Baixas — ice cold, bone dry, with that saline Atlantic edge that Galician whites do better than anywhere else in the world. When you’re sitting next to a river in the mountains with a plate of food in front of you and the bikes parked outside, it doesn’t get much better than that.

The Hotel That Stole the Show

The afternoon ride brought us out of the mountains and down towards Santiago de Compostela. We didn’t go into the city — that was for another day — instead peeling off onto a back road that climbed into the hills just outside of town, arriving at the night’s accommodation.

The farmhouse stopped everyone in their tracks.

The crew settling in at the farmhouse — vine pergola, stone walls, Galician hills rolling away behind.

A 300-year-old Galician stone farmhouse, perched on the hillside outside Santiago. Swimming pool, a proper restaurant, rooms that each had their own character — exposed stone walls, wooden beams, antique furniture. The kind of place where the history seeps out of the walls. It became an immediate favourite. Several riders said it was the best hotel of the tour.

The terrace with its ancient stone cross — and the crew making themselves at home in the courtyard.

The Evening

The evening was exactly what a day like this deserves. Drinks on the terrace as the sun dropped behind the Galician hills, the light going golden and then pink over the trees. The hotel’s young waiter appeared with a tray — shots of something local, wine for those who wanted it, the conversation loud and easy after a day on the road together.

Drinks arriving on the terrace — and a Raiz Ribera del Duero red with a Galician sunset. The dog approved.

Raiz Ribera del Duero on the stone table. A Galician dog wandering through. The hills going dark. Nobody wanted to go to bed.

Day 3 done. Santiago de Compostela tomorrow.