Inside the Spanish Festival Where an Entire Town Has a Massive Wine Fight
Every summer, the town of Haro in northern Spain erupts in a celebration unlike any other. Thousands gather with bottles, buckets, and barrels of wine, and turn the local hillsides into a sea of purple. What begins with clean white shirts ends with everyone drenched in wine, their clothes deep purple and the air filled with laughter.
The tradition traces back centuries, rooted in faith and local pride, but today it has grown into a spectacle that draws people from around the world. More than 50,000 liters of wine are poured, splashed, and sprayed in the name of community and history. This celebration makes the Batalla del Vino far more than just a wild party.
A Tradition With Many Stories
Image via iStockphoto/Ana Diaz
The town of Haro, in Spain’s La Rioja wine country, throws the Batalla del Vino each June 29. Locals call it the Battle of Wine, though “wine war” might be more accurate. Its origins go back hundreds of years, though no one agrees on a single version. One account traces it to the sixth century, when pilgrims honored San Felices, Haro’s patron saint, with trips to the cliffs where he was buried.
Over time, the religious walks became lively picnics, and splashing wine turned into a playful tradition. Another tale links it to a 12th-century border dispute with the neighboring town of Miranda de Ebro. Locals marked the land with annual walks, which reportedly ended with rival groups throwing wine at one another.
During the 20th century, the splashing had become so common that records officially described it as a “wine battle.” Spain declared the event a Festival of National Tourist Interest in 1965, and cemented it as part of the cultural calendar. Today it attracts visitors from around the world, but at its core, it’s still about honoring local history, religion, and community.
The Battle Begins
At sunrise, the town stirs for its most anticipated day of the year. Around 7:30 a.m., the mayor, members of the San Felices Brotherhood, and crowds of locals set out on a seven-kilometer walk from Haro to the Bilibio Cliffs. Most wear white outfits with red scarves, knowing full well that by the end of the morning those clothes will be soaked and stained a deep purple. At the Hermitage of San Felices, a short mass is held before a rocket fired into the sky signals that the fight is on.
Chaos quickly takes over the hillside. Tankers pump out thousands of gallons of wine, which people scoop into bottles, buckets, and even water guns. Some seasoned veterans come armed with backpack sprayers converted into wine blasters. The only “rule” is to drench your neighbor until nothing white remains. By mid-morning, the cliffs are awash in purple and the sound of laughter carries over the vineyards.
When the battle eases toward midday, the celebration shifts back to town. Marching bands fill Haro’s narrow streets with music, families gather around plates of snails in tomato and pepper sauce, and the bullring hosts afternoon spectacles. As night falls, plazas come alive with dancing, brass music, and plenty of Rioja wine reserved for drinking, stretching the fiesta across several days.
Organizers are quick to point out that the wine used in the battle isn’t fine Rioja meant for export. Instead, it’s leftover or low-quality wine, with more than 50,000 liters—and in some accounts over 100,000—sprayed, splashed, and poured. Whatever runs down the hillsides eventually seeps back into the soil, returning to the vineyards that made it.
A Global Attraction With Local Roots
Image via Wikimedia Commons/BigSus
Haro’s wine fight stands out for spectacle and authenticity. Unlike La Tomatina in Buñol, which is now mostly tourist-driven, the Battle of Wine still centers on locals. Families join in together, some children spray passing strangers, and older men take pride in teaching new generations how to soak participants properly. Travelers who come often remark on how welcoming the community is, even while dousing them head to toe in red wine.
Still, local officials stress that the festival should not lose its meaning. The wine fight starts with a pilgrimage and a mass, and leaders remind visitors that it isn’t only about drinking but about celebrating centuries of tradition. As the event grows more popular on social media, that balance between spectacle and heritage remains part of its story.