The Tower Was Not the Best Seat

That evening, in Burgos, the Sun sits around eight degrees above the horizon. It sets minutes after totality. A good view means open sky.

After the first tasting at Bodegas Portia, you ask for a place more special still. The question goes up to the village.

A woman there answers with a phone number. It belongs to the man who owns a medieval tower above the village.

He opens it for you. You look around and ask yourself whether you can watch the eclipse from the top. You decide not to. He tells you to follow his four-by-four: he knows a better place.

You follow. When you reach it, you know. You go back down to the winery, collect the family and choose the finest wines the cellar has. You drive up again with everything ready.

It is a place among fields of wheat and sunflowers, with no city around and no one else in sight. The light changes across the fields as it fades. The birds stop singing. The sky turns dark. You are completely alone. The family has watched several total eclipses before. They tell you this one was different.

Afterwards you come down to Portia for a concert and a long tasting dinner.

It began with a phone number, handed over by a stranger. — Northern Spain Travel

How a journey works. It begins with a conversation about what you want to accomplish and what has surprised you on other journeys. Then you are introduced to the people who hold the places: families, producers and guides who have lived here for generations, whose projects are put on the map. Behind every journey, a team watches every transfer and every driver. Hotels and hosts know the hour you arrive and say your name before you give it. One person is assigned to you, and the phone is answered at any hour. Start the conversation.