Day 4 – The World’s #1 Ranked Vineyard | Chile Travel Diary
Date: Sunday, March 22
Location: Santiago → Viña Casa Silva → Viña Vik (Millahue Valley) | 39 km / 24.2 mi if biking
Mood: Run-down but determined
A Rough Start (But We’re Not Sitting This One Out)
I had a terrible sleep, and by morning it was clear that I’m sick-sick. Not in a dramatic, trip-ending way, but enough that I feel it sitting in your body and it’s not just “in my head” — heavy, foggy, a little wheezey and definately not the best version of myself. More than just slightly off. It’s the kind of feeling that makes everything take a little more effort than it should.
That said, there was never really a question of whether I’d ride. This is the first official biking day, and I’m doing it. So the plan became simple: manage it (thank you, Tylenol cold & flu), don’t overthink it, and just keep moving. Sending up another little thank you to the universe for the existence of e-bikes.
The Drive Out of Santiago
We started with a two-hour shuttle out of the city to clear Santiago before getting on the bikes, and this part ended up being more striking than I expected.
As we drove, the contrast between neighbourhoods became impossible to ignore. One moment you’re passing high-end gated communities — clean, structured, carefully maintained — and then almost immediately it shifts into homes that look pieced together with tin roofs, tarps, and makeshift fencing, with graffiti layered across the walls. It isn’t hidden or separated; it all exists side by side.
Our driver, who casually mentioned he’s an olive farmer producing for local supermarkets, added another layer to it. It’s always interesting when someone’s everyday life sounds completely different from your own, but to them it’s just normal.
Then there were the small dog houses scattered along the highway median. At first they seemed random, almost decorative, but they’re actually makeshift shelters built for both stray and community dogs, often left with food or water by locals. Once you know that, you start to see them differently — not as odd structures, but as quiet signs of care.
The Shift Into the Valley
Somewhere along the way, as we approached the O’Higgins region, we passed near El Teniente Mine, the largest underground copper mine in the world, still in operation. It’s one of those facts that feels almost abstract until you realize you’re right there beside it.
Not long after, the landscape began to change. The density of the city fell away, and everything opened up into farmland and rolling hills, with mountains surrounding us in a way that felt straight-up cinematic. It was one of those transitions where you don’t notice the exact moment it happens, but suddenly everything feels quieter, wider, and more expansive.
A Vineyard Tour Without Wine
We arrived at Viña Casa Silva, a historic, family-run winery that dates back to the 19th century and produces millions of bottles each year across several estates. The grounds are beautiful — the kind of place that feels carefully designed to reflect tradition, with vineyards stretching toward the Andes and even a polo field on site (no polo happening at the moment, but still pretty cool).
The tour itself was informative and well done, but what stood out most was what was missing. There was no tasting.
It felt strange to walk through a vineyard, learn about the wine, see the production, and then not actually taste anything. I understand the biking component — you can’t have people drinking and driving, but it still felt slightly off. I’m sure it’s strange for the vineyard as well to have a group do a tour but not taste!
Lunch Among the Vines
From there, we biked out to the Club House restaurant set within the vineyard, with views stretching out toward the Andes. Even with the rain starting to come down, that first moment of the ride is hard to describe. I know I’ve used this analogy before (and, based on this first day, I’m sure I will again) but it genuinely felt like we’d stepped into a storybook and were just a character that someone drew up.
Vines on either side of the road, the misty Andes in front of us, and nothing to do but be in awe while we made our way to the restaurant.
Everything at Clubhouse Casa Silva was cooked over live fire, which you could see immediately — open flames, smoke, and a sense that the cooking itself was part of the experience. Brent had the steak, I went with the tuna, and both were excellent.
And then there was the corn. I know, I know…again with the corn. What can I say? I love the stuff. And so, apparently, do the Chilean people!
Pastelera de choclo is a very common side dish here — it’s a creamy corn dish with a lightly caramelized top, and it was divine! At this point, corn is quietly becoming a theme on this trip, and I’m fully on board with that.
Riding Through the Rain
After lunch, we got back on the bikes and headed toward Viña Vik, and this is where the weather really set in. It was cold enough to notice and wet enough to soak through, but not so bad that it ruined the experience.
In fact, there was something about it that felt surprisingly fun. It had that same feeling as being a kid and just being outside in the weather without overthinking it. Darcy, who is quickly becoming one of my favourite people on this trip, lent me her windbreaker because I had forgotten mine, and that made all the difference. Without it, the ride would have been a very different experience for me. So Darcy, if you’re reading this, thank you again!
We passed through small communities where each home seemed to have its own small-scale farm — not large agricultural operations, but personal plots with chickens, gardens, and food clearly grown to support the household. It felt grounded and self-sufficient in a way that you don’t often see at home. A little bit like stepping back in time.
Dogs Everywhere (and One Unexpected Save)
One thing that became very clear today is that there are dogs everywhere. Nearly every property has at least one, often more, and while most stay behind fences, they take their role as protectors very seriously.
A few gave chase, which adds a layer of adrenaline you don’t necessarily expect on a cycling day. At one point, I saw a particularly aggressive dog heading straight toward me (after already chasing the cyclists ahead of me), and before I could fully react, a car pulled alongside and positioned itself between the dog and me, laying on the horn just long enough for me to pass safely. Thank you, sir!
It was a small moment, but it stuck with me. There was no interaction, no acknowledgment — just someone stepping in to help without hesitation. And even this early on, I can tell that’s a great representation of the people here.
Arriving at Viña Vik
We arrived at Viña Vik completely soaked and covered in mud, very much looking like we had just biked through the rain for hours — because we had.
What stood out immediately was that it didn’t matter. The level of service didn’t change. We were welcomed in exactly the same way as anyone else, regardless of the fact that we looked like we had been dragged through the countryside. That kind of consistency says a lot about a place and is exactly why Vik is award-winning.
But the arrival itself is something you can’t really prepare for because you spend the better part of the afternoon cycling along quiet back roads, passing very modest homes, small family farms, dogs wandering freely, and then — almost abruptly — it appears.
Vik rises up out of the landscape in a way that feels almost surreal.
The building itself is an architectural statement with a sweeping, titanium-clad structure designed to sit above the vineyard rather than within it, almost like it’s hovering over the valley. The roof curves in this fluid, sculptural way, reflecting the sky and the surrounding hills, so it changes depending on the light. It doesn’t try to blend in — it contrasts everything around it — but still feels intentional, like it belongs exactly where it is.
And when you arrive, that contrast hits even harder. One minute you’re riding through rural Chile, and the next you’re standing in front of what feels like a piece of modern art planted in the middle of a vineyard.
Inside, it opens up into this expansive, light-filled space that feels more like a gallery than a hotel. There’s a central living room that acts as the heart of the property, a bar that looks out over the vines, and an open-air courtyard that feels like a life-sized bonsai garden — perfectly composed, quiet, and a little surreal in its own way.
Everywhere you turn, there’s a view. Everywhere. 360 degrees.
The infinity pool stretches out toward the valley, the hot tub sits overlooking the vineyards, and even the gym is positioned so you’re looking out over the same rolling hills while you work out. Nothing feels like an afterthought and every space is designed to frame the landscape.
The architecture and the setting are in constant conversation with each other here, and you feel it immediately. And somehow, arriving there soaked, muddy, and slightly delirious from the ride almost made it better.
The Vik Winery Experience
Once we had a bit of time to clean up, we headed into the winery, which is where the day really shifted.
Viña Vik isn’t just a winery; it’s a highly engineered, design-driven operation that focuses on precision at every level. The estate includes around 315 hectares of planted vines, with approximately 10,000 vines per hectare, and the entire production system is gravity-fed, meaning the wine moves through the process naturally without mechanical pumping.
They also produce and maintain their own barrels on-site (called a cooperage), which is unusual, and they don’t sell them (a deal they made with the Cooper that taught them barrel making, which still stands). During COVID, a group of French coopers ended up staying at the property longer than expected to teach barrel-making, which ultimately strengthened their in-house capabilities. The barrels are toasted using Chilean oak in a controlled way that allows the wood to fall naturally, which contributes to the final flavour profile.
The entire operation feels intentional, from the architecture to the production methods, and it currently boasts the title “World’s #1 Winery” (2025).
A Meal That Sets the Standard
Dinner at Milla Milla was a full tasting menu with wine pairings led by their Chef & Wine Maker, and it was easily one of the standout experiences of the trip so far. It’s exclusive, only available to guests of the hotel, and Brent said it might be the best meal he’s ever had, which is not something he says lightly.
The lamb, in particular, was exceptional — easily the best we’ve had. Every course felt thoughtful and precise, including a celery palate cleanser with Pop Rocks that somehow worked perfectly, even though it sounds like it shouldn’t.
This wasn’t just a good dinner; it was the kind of meal that resets your expectations for what the rest of the trip might look like.
As for Michelin — the restaurant itself doesn’t currently hold a Michelin star, but the property has received recognition through the Michelin Guide, including two Michelin Keys, which are awarded to hotels for exceptional hospitality and we felt that.
The Room
Our room, Cienfuegos, was designed by artists Gonzalo Cienfuegos and Eduardo Cardozo, and it feels more like an installation than a standard hotel room. The materials are distinctly Chilean, with cactus wood furniture and gold detailing, and the bathroom is fully painted as one continuous mural meant to resemble a wine cellar.
The entire front of the room is glass, which means the view of the valley — and especially the stars at night — is completely unobstructed. It’s the kind of view that makes you stop for a second and just take it in.
That said, while the open-concept bathroom looks beautiful, it’s not entirely practical. The shower sits within the same open space as the tub and toilet, which means water ends up everywhere, and while it fits the design, I still prefer a more traditional enclosed setup with less cleanup required. Maybe that’s me being basic.
End of Day
By the time we got back to the room, we were full, slightly buzzed, still not feeling 100%, but completely aware that the day had delivered in a big way. It had everything — contrast, unexpected moments of kindness, incredible food, and a winery experience that genuinely stands out from anything we’ve ever experienced. Quite a way to set the tone for the trip.
Even with the rain, even with being sick, it never felt like a bad day. If anything, those things made it more memorable.
Food Breakdown 🍽️
Winner of the Day: Vik tasting menu (especially the lamb)
Close Second: Brûléed creamed corn
Drink of the Day: Vik 2022 ($298 CAD / 750 ml) with La Piu Belle as a close second ($193 CAD / 1.5L)
Photo of the Day
📸 Mud-covered arrival at Viña Vik
✈️ Travel Tip of the Day
Always pack a windbreaker — or make friends with someone who did.
Let’s Talk About It
Where do you land on ultra-modern hotels versus more traditional luxury?
