In which I meet a very nice man who shares my love of the lack of definitive answers in the world of whisky making; and I lerarn that I can still drive narrow winding coastal roads in Scotland because, well, needs must when the bladder drives.
Category: Distillery Visits
In which I start and end the day with good (for some definitions of good) wholesome food, visit the north coast of the country, and wave at a distillery.
In which I meet a Scottish Dick Van Dyke, a legendary stillman, and a dram good dram. I also confirm that my career as a rally driver is a non-starter, and the nav system is deluded. (And also write far too much for one post).
I’m writing this from the top of a hill. A very special hill. It’s called Dun Mor, the black hill. I’ve come close to serious injury or actual death here a couple of times, but that’s not important right now. What is important is that it’s one of my favourite places in the world.
In which I confirm that Tobermory isn’t just a womble, learn the correct pronunciation of Ledaig, meet a woman who is the reverse of me, run out of money briefly, and sail on some FERRIES!!
In which we walk, then drink whisky, then walk, then eat and drink whisky, then drink whisky, then walk. There may have been some whisky drunk later, but who can tell.
In which we fail to find a walking path from one direction, find it from the other direction, enjoy a magnificent beach, and, much to no-one’s surprise, tour a couple of distilleries. Also, I confirm that my Gaelic is non-existent.
In which we have a completely free day with nothing scheduled, except the things we decided to schedule, only one of which is actually scheduled; the others are more sortof loose plans. We also see baby seals, none of which are pink or flying.
In which plans change a little, I spend some time doing my own thing, I visit two engineering feats that are unexpectedly connected, and we have a great dinner.
PENDING
In which I meet the good friend I’ll be travelling with, I meet a good old friend for lunch, I meet three new wondeful whiskies, and finally I meet an early and ancient grave…
In which I intentionally drive the wrong direction, unintentionally drive the normally-right-but-wrong-today direction, drive the right direction for three hours, ride a FERRY!, and visit a distillery…
In which we have a hearty meal, drive a road that would make Six Flags jealous, walk all directions looking for distilleries, witness a whisky baptism, and I fall in love with a new new make spirit…
In which we visit our favourite distillery on Isaly, meet our new favourite tour guide, get rather comfortable with the facility, consider moving in, decide against it, and visit an old church and a beach instead. As you do…
In which we just have one tour booked, an informal “build your own tasting” sort of afternoon planned, and end up with a curated tasting that may be impossible to beat…
In which I meet a lassie fae Dumbarton who doesn’t bite, I find a church pew I’d visit every Sunday guaranteed, and find out just what Caol Ila has been doing since last we met. There’s also the last ferry ride of the trip during which I rediscover a British culinary delight…
In which I take a wrong turn, traffic is too slow, we delay a tour for the better at one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland, and induce whiplash through an incredible experience at literally the newest distillery in Scotland…