Arraia-Maeztu (Arraya-Maestu)

The road from Vitoria-Gasteiz climbs 600 metres in twenty-odd kilometres, leaving the cereal plains behind like a dropped map. By the time the sign for Arraia-Maeztu appears, the steering wheel is cool to the touch even in July, and the verges have turned from sun-bleached straw to mountain thyme and bilberry. This is not a single village but a loose federation of hamlets strung across the southern flank of the Vitoria Mountains—eight tiny nuclei that share a town hall, a doctor’s rota, and barely 800 permanent residents between them.

A Parish Church, a Track, and Silence

Most visitors head first to Apellániz, the largest cluster, where the stone church of San Millán squats on a ridge with views clear across the Alava plateau. The building is 16th-century, rough-hewn and fortress-like; its bell tower doubles as a lightning conductor for the entire valley. Inside, if the custodian has left the key in the neighbouring house, you’ll find a single-nave interior painted an unexpected Brunswick green and a baroque altarpiece whose gilt is flaking like old paint on a boat. If the door is locked, don’t waste half an hour hunting for the caretaker—move on. Arraia-Maeztu rewards movement, not ticking boxes.

Five minutes down the lanes, Víllodas offers the opposite mood: a pocket-sized shrine to San Martín de Tours surrounded by working farmyards smelling of silage and fresh sawdust. The houses here still have wooden balconies wide enough for a family to thresh wheat by hand, though today they’re stacked with firewood instead. Park by the stone trough and walk the 200-metre stretch of lane slowly; the interest lies in the details—an 1820 datestone here, a medieval coping stone reused as a windowsill there—rather than any marquee sight.

Walking Tracks That Bite Back

The Montes de Vitoria are criss-crossed by forestry roads originally built for log trucks. Maps make them look gentle, but gradients of 12–14% arrive without warning, and the surface switches from packed grit to fist-sized limestone cobbles designed to twist an ankle. A straightforward circuit links Apellániz with Antoñana and the high pasture of Arteta: 7 km, roughly two hours, and a 250-metre cumulative climb that feels more because the path is exposed. In May the verges are loud with cuckoos; in August the same stretch offers almost no shade before 6 pm, so start early or risk sunstroke.

Mountain-bikers use the same web of tracks. A popular half-day ride starts at the recreational area of Gazeo (picnic tables, spring water tap, no other facilities) and follows the GR-25 long-distance path eastwards, then drops on a rough 4×4 track to the isolated hamlet of Larrea. From there a paved lane drifts back to the main road—18 km door-to-door, 400 metres of climbing, and almost zero traffic once you leave the tarmac. Hire bikes in Vitoria beforehand; there is no rental outlet this high up.

Winter Rules Everything

Above 900 metres, snow can fall any time from late October to April. The regional government keeps the A-3602 open with gritters, but side roads become single-track toboggans. A bright January morning delivers postcard-perfect beech woods—silent, monochrome, the only footprints those of wild boar—but leave the walking boots in the car unless you have micro-spikes; the mud freezes overnight into ruts sharp enough to cut skin. Even in a normal year, daylight lasts barely nine hours, so a “short” 10 km hike needs a 9 a.m. start to avoid retreating in the dark.

Summer brings the opposite problem: water. Apart from the public fountain at Gazeo, there is no guaranteed source above the villages, and the intermittent streams marked on 1:25,000 maps are usually dry by July. Carry at least two litres per person for any walk longer than a couple of hours; the cafés down in the valleys shut on Mondays and Tuesdays, so you cannot rely on a mid-route refill.

Where to Sleep and What to Eat

Accommodation is limited to three casas rurales, each sleeping six to ten, and a nine-room guesthouse in Antoñana that used to be the school. Expect to pay €90–110 per night for two, including breakfast but not the €1.20 per person municipal tax that is collected in cash on arrival. Kitchens are fully equipped—handy, because the nearest restaurant is a 20-minute drive away in Bernedo, and it closes Sunday evening and all of Monday.

For supplies, the SPAR in Zigoitia, 12 km back towards Vitoria, stays open until 21:30 and sells locally made Idiazabal cheese for €22 a kilo, half the price of the airport shops. Pair it with a bottle of Rioja Alavesa from the filling station—no irony intended; pumps here dispense bulk wine at €1.95 a litre into plastic jerrycans, and the tempranillo is perfectly drinkable.

Honest Assessment

Arraia-Maeztu will not dazzle anyone seeking medieval arcades or Michelin stars. The villages are quiet to the point of somnolence, mobile coverage is patchy, and a missed turning can add 40 minutes to a journey because the roads loop like dropped string. Yet that is exactly why the area works as an antidote to the coastal Spain of crowded terraces and €14 gin-and-tonics. Come with a full tank, a pair of sturdy shoes, and enough time to sit on a stone wall listening to nothing but wind and cowbells, and the place makes immediate, understated sense. Leave expecting non-stop drama or Instagram moments every five minutes, and you will drive away after lunch wondering what all the fuss was about.