News and Views

May 2010 was one of the best May's on record. Well for me and my pursuit of whisky anyways. Of course there were obstacles. Volcanoes, the uncertainty of flying Air Transat and trying to pack for the weather found in a Scottish Spring were among a few.

All that said, arriving into Glasgow it was dry, cool, and whisky-ish. Yes whisky-ish. A general term used to describe any situation where whisky is either called for, can be sensed in the air, or a mood or occasion which could benefit from some.  In an hour or so you can be in Edinburgh, Along the way you'll see the comforting sight Spring lambs, farmland, and as you near the capital city the giant letters of "Glenmorangie" and "Ardbeg" on the left-hand side of the highway as you pass their bottling plant. Certainly whisky-ish!

After a few days of sorting out the jet-lag and cruising around Morningside in search of Scottish delicacies it was time for me to go. I had planned a quick two day romp to Islay. you know, that pesky little island off the West coast of Scotland which has the reputation for some pretty damn good whisky? Maybe you've heard of it. I felt I needed to recruit some help to tackle Islay with. I looked to Chris, who I had worked at Royal Mile Whiskies with, as an obvious accomplice. We have kept in touch over the years and were both frothing to get over to Islay. The second was Greg. He has been on a one-man mission to keep the Shebeen nights in Vancouver alive and well as he has been to ,well , all of them! Most impressive. So when I had heard he was going to be in the U.K. I put it forward to him to meet for a couple days on Islay.

I could easily recite facts and stories about this smoky, peat crusted isle, but anyone with internet can find the same things I can> though I would certainly make them sound impressive and as though I came up with them after years of research. So here is the Islay segment of my trip in a very exact and scientific form, after all this was a trip based around the pursuit of knowledge!

May 17 2010

0600 - Chris picks me up near Morningside with the intent of beating any rush hour traffic which, at times, can be as bad as any day on the Number 1 highway in Vancouver. We head West towards Glasgow and pass through hills strewn with sheep, brambles, plastic ski hills and rabbits.

0601- Realized I have not had a morning coffee and instantly regretting it. A plan is hatching to substitute coffee with alcohol once we've reached the ferry.

The drive from anywhere to anywhere in Scotland is magical. I am sure the locals take it for granted. As I am sure people are awestruck with the mountains here on the coast, and the beauty of Vancouver. But there is something reassuring and constant about this country. The way the fields are framed with half century old stone walls. Or the pub you are drinking in is older than Canada.

0650- Driving through Glasgow I kick myself for never really getting into that city and getting a feel for it. Next time.

0715 - Now we've turned towards the Kintyre peninsula and we'll travel through towns like Inverary, Tarbert, Dumbarton, Furnace and the list goes on. Over time the villages and town start to blend together as our talk reverts back to whisky after we catch up on family life etc. Chris and I always fill each other in on what bottles we've picked up, our favorite dram of the moment and what's been happening in the industry. I'm especially curious as I like to gauge my knowledge and see how I am keeping up with the currents and tides of the beast.

0815 - We pull into Inverrary - easily one of the most picturesque towns you'll come across, trying to find some kind of caffeine and golden breakfast pastry to no avail. Far too early. Certainly far too early to pop into one of the best whisky shops in the world. Loch Fyne Whiskies. From this somewhat remote outpost Richard Joynson has built a reputation as being both honest (refreshingly and brutally), and a destination for whisky drinkers everywhere. He has built up a perfectly accessible website and mail order empire which will ensure the shops longevity.

Fast forwarding to the ferry as I see the text above is running a touch long.

0915 - Kennacraig Ferry Depot - Here we meet up with Greg who has spent the past day travelling from the Southern tip of England up to Glasgow and along the tight wind of the country roads. We chit chat for a bit, find our first coffee of the day from a vending machine and board the ferry. Now you can take the car to Islay, but as you'll see further down, you don't need to.

1030 - See picture to the right......we get stuck into some local Islay ales sold on the ferry. It’s  a mix of Antiques Road Show (seriously) on the television, lorry drivers, whisky tourists and local on their morning commute. The day is stunning so far. Clear blue sky and calm waters. It will take us 2 hours to reach the pier at Port Ellen. Port Ellen. Port Ellen. No typo, I just love seeing those words. Now I am thinking my refusal to have the traditional Scottish breakfast was a bad idea.

1200 - We headed straight towards Ireland, which is only about 40 miles from Islay, and took a quick right which aimed us straight into Port Ellen. Though the first thing we see are the staunch black letters of Laphroaig, on the white-washed distillery office and warehouse. Giddy would be a word to describe how I felt. It has been over a decade of talking about and drinking whisky from this place and finally I was there. Now before you condemn me as a charlatan, most Scots have never been to Islay either. Chris won't want me telling anyone, but this was his first time too. Yeah, so there! Even more satisfying was to see that Laphroaig was in the process of kilning, and bluish peat smoke could be seen percolating from the pagodas. Awe struck.

1205 - Now as we round the jags of ship sinking rocks, I see it. Those big, black letters of Port Ellen. As if some giants were commissioned to paint the warehouses. S many bottles of their whisky I've put to rest. So many times I've recounted the tragic story of how we lost her. A mix of sadness and loss, coupled with perma-grin on my face.

1215 - We get off the ferry, Greg with everything you'd expect you'd need for a three month trip to Europe, and walk the white sand beach over to the Port Ellen distillery. The town itself, is small, almost laid out in a regimented, industrial fashion. Still full of charm though. SO we haul our luggage along the beach, the wheels on Greg's suitcase doing no good now. Similar to a scene from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - but the 1980's BBC production.

1220 - Mecca. We've made it. Now to this point I haven't mentioned the massive looming mass of metal, steam and peat smoke which is the malting plant owned by Diageo. To be honest it's ugly. A giant scar on the landscape and not what you'd expect from a small whisky making island. However, it employs the locals, creates trade and supplies almost all of the island distilleries with some or all of their malted barley. SO what do I do? I walk into the maltings and head for the office. Surely I am the first tourist to do this in hopes of finding some secret stash of good whisky , or a guided tour of the remnants of the old distillery. Nope, No luck. I did manage to talk to someone who gave me the ins and outs of malting barley. Which though interesting to me, was not what I was hoping for.

OK enough of the chronological timeline.

So wandered around these hallowed grounds and then waited for the bus to Bowmore....and waited......until the Royal Mail bus picked us up. A very common practice in rural Scotland is for the mail carriers to use their vehicles to move people around the islands and highlands.

The drive from Port Ellen to Bowmore is littered with peat bogs, sheep, and wind battered landscape. Islay is ruggedly beautiful. It's windy but still blue sky and sunny. The plots of active peat cut bogs are not there for show, or for my benefit. Whisky is one use, but a good chunk of islanders still use peat to cook and heat their houses. You can smell it in the air, and quickly miss the aroma once you leave the island.

We checked into the Lochside hotel and were immediately drawn to its bar. Of course it is a shrine to Islay malts in all their glory, and its particularly well set up for taking tourists money with some severely inflated whisky prices.... their trick worked on me too! I was seduced by a 12 year old Port Ellen. I could not resist! It was good but sadly not the epic dram I had hoped for after sampling an 11 year old a couple of years back.

We went for a walk to the main street in town which is dominated by "the round church" at the top and a steady slope right to the pier and the Bowmore distillery itself. Now I have said before, that I have never been one to want to go on every distillery tour, or even see each distillery on Scotland, but we joined up with a tour which was starting just as we rolled in. As with most distilleries, Bowmore's footprint is not large, but it's grounds are a maze of piping, warehouses, barley and peat. It is one of the few remaining distilleries to do floor maltings to contribute to their barley requirements. Again, I will not bore you with the still capacities, wort temperatures etc. Google it. Of course at the end of the tour comes the treat. We sampled a couple different whiskies, all which I'd had before, but never in the newly opened tasting room. An arch of seats poised in front of a wall of windows to give you a dramatic view - get it? DRAM - atic! Ok, maybe not as funny as I thought.

So with the tour done we explored the rest of town. The Islay Whisky Shop has an incredible selection of Islay malts, but they are expensive, sometimes even twice as much as I've seen other places. We had dinner in our hotel, and I'm not sure how to put it, but wow: they could really use some help with the food there. Luckily they had good beer and as mentioned some good whisky. Knowing we were to get up and be at Laphroaig at 9am we should have had a pint and a whisky and called it a night. Welllllllll instead we drank more pints and Chris bought a bottle of Laphroaig 11 year old which we took down to the pier and began to decimate, nut what a picture. Night time on the Bowmore pier watching the sun set and the bold Black letters on the warehouse grow dark. Certainly one of those perfect whisky moments. Snowflake becomes snowstorm, alarm rings at 7:50am.........................

Slainte,

Andrew