The sign on the distillery’s gift shop door read, “Be back in 20 minutes,” and the heavy rain continued to pour off my hood and erase the multi-colored town of Tobermory.
I grimaced. But the distillery had been here, tucked in the south side of Tobermory bay, since 1798; Occam’s Razor suggested it wouldn’t be going anywhere.
I splashed back to my car and pondered the drams I would taste. I was enduring distillery withdrawal after the week-long bender on Islay where every day involved visiting at least one distillery. Tobermory would likely be my last distillery on this trip to Scotland. Sad face. Read more...
Of the eight, I visited six and a half. My malt marathon around Islay was hacked short with the missing experiences and lost drams coming from a couple of the island’s biggest and most well-known distilleries. Getting an inside look at all eight of Islay’s distilleries in one week requires the right contacts and precision planning, both of which I had, but also a bit of calendar luck. Sadly, this is where the bottom dropped out and my dream of “hitting the cycle” on Islay ended. I couldn’t wrap up my Islay posts without at least a few words about Diageo’s boys on the island: Caol Ila and Lagavulin.
With the Port Ellen ferry terminal currently shut down for renovations, all ferry-goers arrive on Islay at Port Askaig in the northeast. Read more...
When Anthony Wills opened Kilchoman Distillery in 2005, it was the first new distillery Islay had seen in 124 years. Finally, after more than 12 decades, Bruichladdich and Bunnahabhain weren’t the new kids anymore. Kilchoman is the manifestation of a beautiful dream: to create Islay whisky as it was made 200 years ago with a focus on provenance. Small batches, locally-grown barley, floor maltings, everything done by hand – for a 21st-century distillery, this new kid sure has an old soul.
Unlike every other distillery on Islay, Kilchoman (pronounced kill-HO-man) isn’t located on the coast. It’s a landlocked, farmhouse distillery in the west of Islay. Truth be told, it makes perfect sense. Read more...
Islay’s south coast is a rocky stretch ruled by three kings of the whisky industry: Laphroaig, Lagavulin, and Ardbeg – the last stop on the road east and the smallest of the three. Yet its reputation is huge: the Book of Kells-inspired Ardbeg logo glimmers on the shelf like a pair of eyes in the woods. Ardbeg is a beast of a whisky veritably clawing its way out of the bottle, a dangerous dram for the faint-hearted or those afflicted with a delicate constitution. My only touchstone was a night of being savaged by Ardbeg 10 Year’s bite at the hands of Maxx, the proprietor of the Hotel Ceilidh-Donia in Edinburgh.
I’m not one to take it on the chin and slink off, so I made my way to Ardbeg’s lair on Islay, whose water source, Uigeadail, means “dark place” in Gaelic. Was this a fool’s errand? Read more...
The road to Bunnahabhain Distillery snakes off to the north of Islay not far from Port Askaig, where everyone arrives by ferry these days. Most people speed past the turn on their way southwest to Bowmore, and if you’re not careful you might miss the turn inadvertently. The “Bunnahabhain road,” as I like to call it, is a narrow slab of asphalt climbing over hills and curling around small lochs as it wends its way to the distillery. There are no guard rails, few signs of civilization, and stunning views of the Paps of Jura. By the time the road ends at a silent bay ringed by Bunnahabhain Distillery, I’d been wondering if the distillery actually existed, if the Ileachs of Islay hadn’t forgotten to remove the sign.
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A hunter, oft-stubbled and bleary-eyed, driven by an insatiable hunger for exploration and experience - and perhaps a chance to thin the herd of caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. From the highlands and islands to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the Borders, I explore Scotland with a pen in hand and a fire in the belly (which could be partly from the whisky). 
