Off in Scotland’s hinterland, among the rural villages and close-knit islands, there is a sign language common to all travelers of the road. Native Scots deliver these signs from behind the wheels of moving vehicles with some combination of hand, arm, and head movement, and to the average visitor unschooled in such speech the meaning is always reduced to a simple salutation. Some would simply say that a person is “waving.”
But then, much is lost in translation even between English-speaking cultures.
In fact, the different hand-waves of Scotland are nuanced with myriad meanings depending on the circumstances. Read more...
The sunlight strikes purple on the hillside sprinting down to the ocean. Gauzy and warm like a child’s blanket, the air is a physical body filling my lungs and draping the landscape in veils of cloudy blue. There is a disappearing path running around the cliff tops, happily bereft of rails and warnings, sustained only by the infrequent tread of the curious. I cross over clefts that drop away to the surging sea and over spongy patches of gorse and heather buffeted by the Atlantic gales. Every labored breath passes over gritty earth and sea salt. In the distance, the headlands of Islay ceaselessly clash with the sun, sea, and sky.
I don’t know where I’m going. Eventually I stop before a simple wooden post with an arrow pointing to the heavens. Or is it forward? Read more...
My week on Islay this past September was full of picture-perfect scenery, extended explorations of local distilleries replete with copious drams, and austere moments of introspection. While you will surely read the occasional post about Islay here in the future, this post is intended to collect the bulk of my writings on Islay and serve as a convenient jumping off point. To add a little something extra, something fun, I’ve included a series of the “best” moments during the week. Read on good Ileach!
I kicked off my time in Islay by writing my so-called “vignettes” during the trip. The Kildalton Cross had a magical air in the southeast of Islay where there’s little more than sea coast and trees. 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...
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). 
