Olite

The first thing that catches your eye isn't the palace itself, but its reflection. Park on Paseo de Leonor (free, thankfully) and you'll spot the Royal Palace of Olite shimmering in the modern glass of the wine museum opposite. It's a fitting introduction to a town where medieval grandeur meets present-day viticulture at just 388 metres above sea level—low enough for gentle walking, high enough for crisp mornings even in July.

A Palace That Outgrew Its Kingdom

Fifteen minutes south of the AP-15 autopista, Olite's castle rises from the plains like something designed by a child with unlimited Lego. Thirty-three towers pepper the skyline, some square, some round, all topped with jaunty slate hats. The 15th-century monarchs of Navarra built it when their realm stretched into modern France, long before Spain existed. They created what contemporaries called "the most beautiful palace in Europe"—and then promptly lost their kingdom to Ferdinand and Isabella in 1512.

What remains is pure theatre. Buy tickets at the gate (€7.50, no advance faffing required) and climb the Torre del Homenaje for views across an ocean of vines. The stone spiral is narrow—anyone with dodgy knees should stick to the elevator-accessible main ramparts. From the top, Olite reveals its true scale: barely a mile from end to end, with the palace occupying a quarter of the walled area. The Ebro Valley spreads southwards, flat as Norfolk, while the Pyrenees hover on the northern horizon like a promised land.

Inside, the palace mixes fortress and pleasure-dome. Gothic windows frame vineyards where monks once worked. A restored Roman wall sits cheek-by-jowl with Renaissance brickwork. There's even a royal zoo—empty now, but the cages remain, reminders that this court kept lions and camels alongside courtiers. Allow ninety minutes, longer if you're photographically inclined. Download the QR map at the entrance; they've stopped handing out paper copies.

Stone, Wine and Sunday Lunch

Olite's medieval quarter survives intact because nothing much happened here for four centuries. No industrial boom, no railway, no ugly expansion. What you see is what the kings saw: narrow lanes of honey-coloured stone, wooden galleries overhead, the occasional stork nest adding drama to chimney pots. The population hovers around 4,000—smaller than Tavistock, wealthier than you'd expect from a town this size.

Wine money built the grander houses. Drop into Bodegas Pagos de Araiz (ten minutes' walk south) or simply peer into underground cellars dotted beneath the old town. Some offer tours for €12 including tasting; others remain private, their heavy oak doors hinting at tunnels carved into bedrock. The local D.O. Navarra produces Garnacha rosé that tastes like strawberries with a peppery finish—perfect picnic wine, available from the cooperative shop on Plaza Carlos III for under €6 a bottle.

Food follows seasonal Navarrese logic. Spring means pochas (fresh white beans) stewed with clams; autumn brings game and mushroom hunts. Casa del Preboste on Calle Rúa does proper lamb chilindrón—slow-cooked with sweet red peppers until the meat slides from the bone. Portions assume you've walked the Camino all day; two plates feed three comfortably. Expect to pay €18-22 for mains, slightly pricier than inland Spain generally. Most restaurants close their kitchens by 4pm sharp; arrive late and you'll be limited to tapas bars where tortilla comes cold and pre-sliced.

When Kings Return (and Why You Might Avoid Them)

Every mid-August, Olite's Medieval Festival turns seriousness into pantomime. Knights joust in the plaza, falconers parade hawks through taverns, the population quadruples. Hotel rates double—book months ahead or stay in nearby Tafalla instead. The spectacle is impressive but chaotic; narrow streets become one-way human traffic systems. If you prefer your history contemplative, visit in late September when vines flame red-gold and the harvest festival means free grape juice pressed in the main square.

Winter has its own rewards. January sun casts long shadows through palace arches; mist pools in the Ebro Valley below. Temperatures can drop to -5°C at night—pack layers. Most attractions stay open but hours shrink; check the palace website as Spanish timetables shift unpredictably off-season. Rain turns cobbles slippery; rubber soles essential. On the plus side, you'll share the castle with perhaps a dozen others, gaining unobstructed photos and eerie silence broken only by stork clacking.

Spring brings wildflowers to the walls and comfortable 20°C afternoons. Easter processions here are sombre affairs—hooded penitents, drum beats echoing off stone, no tourist-priced seating. May and June see the vines flower; the air smells faintly of honeysuckle and young grapes. This is arguably the sweet spot: warm enough for evening drinks outside, cool enough for serious walking.

Beyond the Walls

Olite works as a day trip from Pamplona (45 minutes' drive) or Logroño (50 minutes), but staying overnight rewards the curious. Morning light transforms the palace into something gentler than its fairy-tale billing; swifts dive between turrets while cafés set out tables beneath plane trees. The town's compact size means you can cover everything on foot—no need to move the car once parked.

Active types can join the Camino de Santiago Aragonés as it skirts the western walls. A gentle 10km circuit leads through olive groves to Muruzábal, where a 12th-century church stands isolated among wheat fields. Cyclists find flat lanes south towards the Moncayo mountains; hire bikes from the tourist office for €15 a day. Closer to home, the Senda de los Sentidos vineyard trail loops 5km through three wineries with tasting stops—book ahead to avoid disappointment.

Evening entertainment remains resolutely Spanish. Locals emerge for paseo at 7pm, children circling the plaza on scooters while grandparents gossip on benches. Bars serve zurito (small beer) for €1.20 and decent rioja by the glass. There's no nightclub, no cinema, barely any live music outside festival weeks. Olite shuts down by midnight, peaceful enough to hear storks shifting on their nests high above.

The honest truth? One full day sees the highlights; two lets you breathe. Use Olite as a base for Romanesque churches in the surrounding villages, or simply sit with a book and watch Spanish small-town life proceed unchanged. The palace will still be there tomorrow, towers silhouetted against sunrise, waiting for the next traveller who turns off the autopista and wonders what kings saw in this particular patch of Navarrese vineyard.