Having arrived in Port Ellen the sneaky way, from Northern Ireland, at 11am, I was perfectly positioned to embark on a tour of three of my favourite whisky distilleries: Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg. They are a mile apart from each other along the coast road out of Port Ellen (with a brand new fourth distillery currently under construction even closer to the village). Each has whitewashed walls facing out to sea, upon which its name is emblazoned in tall, black letters. Anyone arriving by boat from the mainland would have no excuse for not knowing where they were. These tiny dots on the map bear world famous names and yet they sit in the quietest, most unassuming of locations. Nevertheless, people come from far and wide to visit and today was no exception. I shared these hallowed visitor bars with people from China and Germany, Australia and London. Some of them must spend a fortune on tours and tastings and bottles of limited edition single malts.
Having already spent a small fortune this summer, I was happy to chat with the staff and drink whatever free drams came my way. It’s nice to try things you can’t easily get hold of anywhere else, especially if it falls outside your usual price threshold for whisky buying, which in my case is most of what they had!
I whiled away a very content three hours in this way, enjoying an al fresco lunch in the sunny courtyard at Ardbeg. Then it was time to cycle across the island to my accommodation 28 miles away on the far side of beautiful Loch Indaal. I did call in at Bowmore distillery in the island’s tiny capital, with its unusual round church, halfway there, but only the shop was open on a Monday. Perhaps tomorrow. Bowmore has always eluded me in previous visits to Islay (one of which regular readers of my travels will know was during last year’s OS map adventure). But I had planned a free day on the island before I leave for Dull on Wednesday, so anything was possible. Tuesday was supposed to be an OK weather day. I should use it well.
Back to today, the ride around the horseshoe bay of Loch Indaal took me into the breeze past Bruichladdich distillery, with sweeping views back across to Bowmore and further to the Paps of Jura. The white buildings of Bowmore shone distantly across the water in the afternoon sun and it was all very atmospheric.
I got dinner in the bar of the Port Charlotte hotel. There was nowhere else to go on a Monday in October. I had a wonderful Keralan style chicken with rice and green vegetables, and a pint of Finlaggan, an Islay IPA. It wasn’t a cheap evening but it was worth it. I was shown their whisky menu for interest. It covered seven pages. When I look back at most of the other food menu offerings I have been presented with over the past two months, this selection, here in a tiny remote Hebridean village, was a world apart. You couldn’t eat like this every night, of course; but just to be given such appetising and imaginative choices was a pleasure in itself. How refreshing. If this was British eating out, I was glad to be home! It was also conspicuous how many vegetarian and fish options there were. (As a aside, in Ballymoney the night before there was even an entire vegan menu available). So that was all something to celebrate as rain fell in biblical quantities just after I entered the hotel.
On which note, I had other issues to absorb my attention this evening. After tomorrow, my BnB owner pointed out, the met office had issued yellow weather warnings for three consecutive days. Heavy rain and high winds were expected all day for up to three days, starting in 24 hours. I might enjoy Islay tomorrow, but then what? Stormy weather and cycling do not mix well. I was in a very isolated place with nowhere to easily escape the conditions. Should I use tomorrow to make my escape? Was that even possible? I was a long, rather complicated way from most modern transport options. Tricky.
This dilemma called for much detailed internet research of trains, ferries and road mileage to see what made sense. I had intended to visit more distilleries; but I have been here before more than once. Sometimes sacrifices need to be made for the greater good.
In the end I made a plan to leave Islay in the morning on the 10am ferry. I would be doing that anyway on Wednesday. I may as well do it in the dry. What happened after that would be down to luck and how fast I cycled. As always, it pays to have a plan B.
Nobbut a cockstride away now lad. May the wind be at your back.