| Truck full of peat! Hello, Islay. |
So we packed up and reluctantly left Arran. We were off to experience a more realistic version of Island life: an island not so
easily reached by public transport, with fewer public buses, and fewer obvious tourist attractions, and thus, fewer English tourists.
We were shipping off to the remotest edge of Central Scotland: we were off to Islay.
Islay (pronounced EYE-lah) is known for exactly one thing and nothing else: whisky. Fans of whisky will know that Scotland is cut
up into five "regions" of single malt; Islay whisky is so distinctive that it makes up an entire region on its own. So if you ever go to
Islay, you will inevitably be taking at least one distillery tour, and if you're hardcore you can take all seven. It's all there is to do.
easily reached by public transport, with fewer public buses, and fewer obvious tourist attractions, and thus, fewer English tourists.
We were shipping off to the remotest edge of Central Scotland: we were off to Islay.
Islay (pronounced EYE-lah) is known for exactly one thing and nothing else: whisky. Fans of whisky will know that Scotland is cut
up into five "regions" of single malt; Islay whisky is so distinctive that it makes up an entire region on its own. So if you ever go to
Islay, you will inevitably be taking at least one distillery tour, and if you're hardcore you can take all seven. It's all there is to do.
Of course, medieval dorks like me also know that Islay is full of some of the sexiest busted
churches in Scotland, some of which come complete with 8th century crosses carved out
of stone. But even medieval dorks need cars to see these ruins or anything else out in the
Highlands and Islands, so to my utter dismay, I didn't make it to Kildalton or Kilnave.
Islay also has miles and miles of coastline, which again must be very nice if you have a
car. What's more, Islay's neighbor less than one mile to the east is the Isle of Jura, which
can be seen for miles thanks to its distinctive three mountains, hilariously known as the
Paps of Jura (literally, the tits). Climbers who eat their Wheaties (or their Weetabix here in
the UK) can tackle all three boobies in one eight-hour hike. I would have liked to try just
one, thank you, but our two-night stay on Islay was barely enough to see a damn thing by
public transport, as we were soon to find out.
churches in Scotland, some of which come complete with 8th century crosses carved out
of stone. But even medieval dorks need cars to see these ruins or anything else out in the
Highlands and Islands, so to my utter dismay, I didn't make it to Kildalton or Kilnave.
Islay also has miles and miles of coastline, which again must be very nice if you have a
car. What's more, Islay's neighbor less than one mile to the east is the Isle of Jura, which
can be seen for miles thanks to its distinctive three mountains, hilariously known as the
Paps of Jura (literally, the tits). Climbers who eat their Wheaties (or their Weetabix here in
the UK) can tackle all three boobies in one eight-hour hike. I would have liked to try just
one, thank you, but our two-night stay on Islay was barely enough to see a damn thing by
public transport, as we were soon to find out.
Islay looks big, but rest assured there is
nothing out there but peat. They say their
population is 4000, but they must have
also counted a few seagulls by mistake.
nothing out there but peat. They say their
population is 4000, but they must have
also counted a few seagulls by mistake.
Islay (left) and Jura (right) from the ferry.
Getting Out There
The shit-ass port of Claonaig on the Mull of
Kintyre. There's nothing there, just a bus shelter.
How dare they even give this place a name.
Kintyre. There's nothing there, just a bus shelter.
How dare they even give this place a name.
Looking back (wistfully, at this point) to the
Highlands of Arran. Man, were we cold.
Highlands of Arran. Man, were we cold.
Katie leaves her mark in the Claonaig bus
shelter while we wait for a cab.
shelter while we wait for a cab.
Getting to Islay is hard enough; getting to Islay from Arran is extra special. First, there's the ferry from Lochranza to Claonaig on
the mainland. Now, don't expect a warm welcome at Claonaig, because the only other people there are the ones who are driving
off the ferry in their warm, comfy cars and leaving you to wait for the 20-minute bus, which of course doesn't come for another
hour. Instead of doing that, I made some calls and found the number for a cab; the cabbie felt sorry for us, and wouldn't even
accept a tip ("the fare is dear enough," he said with a Gaelic-tinged accent). I later found out that Let's Go actually lists this very
cabbie in their Islay write-up; just another reason why LG is better than the Rough Guide or anything else.
By bus or by cab, you get to the pier at Kennacraig and get on the ferry to Islay, where you better hope you catch the bus to your
final destination because it's likely to be the last one that day. What fun! Just bring a car, folks.
the mainland. Now, don't expect a warm welcome at Claonaig, because the only other people there are the ones who are driving
off the ferry in their warm, comfy cars and leaving you to wait for the 20-minute bus, which of course doesn't come for another
hour. Instead of doing that, I made some calls and found the number for a cab; the cabbie felt sorry for us, and wouldn't even
accept a tip ("the fare is dear enough," he said with a Gaelic-tinged accent). I later found out that Let's Go actually lists this very
cabbie in their Islay write-up; just another reason why LG is better than the Rough Guide or anything else.
By bus or by cab, you get to the pier at Kennacraig and get on the ferry to Islay, where you better hope you catch the bus to your
final destination because it's likely to be the last one that day. What fun! Just bring a car, folks.
Insular is the Word
Bowmore, the bustling capital with its
distinctive round church. Unlike Arran,
Islay's towns actually have streets (plural).
distinctive round church. Unlike Arran,
Islay's towns actually have streets (plural).
And here's our crappy little town of Port
Ellen at dusk. This street reminded me of
something I saw a long time ago...
Ellen at dusk. This street reminded me of
something I saw a long time ago...
...ah yes. Here's a screenshot of "The Third World," in
Monty Python's Meaning of Life.
Monty Python's Meaning of Life.
Port Ellen, where we stayed on Islay, was so ghetto it's hilarious. Our first impression
of Islay was dodgy enough: the bus we caught from the ferry turned out to be the
school bus (which is reason enough to visit the Highlands in summer when this
doesn't happen). Anyway, there's a dusty grocery store that sells exactly one DVD
behind the counter, which I was pleased to find was Return of the King; then there's a
scary bar, and an even scarier bar with no windows. The first night we ate at the lame
White Hart Hotel restaurant, apparently run entirely by surly high schoolers, and the
second night at the decent Maharani Indian restaurant. I believe with that we had
exhausted all of our food options, so it was a good thing we left.
On the upside, the town smells perpetually of salty sea air mixed with burning peat.
This is thanks to the Port Ellen Maltings, where most of the barley for the island's
distilleries gets malted and dried over peat smoke...mmm, peat. I also noticed that
the water on Islay really is softer than the rest of Scotland for some reason, which
along with the peat smoke and the sea air is what makes Islay malts so distinctive.
Another plus was our B&B: the Askernish not only faced the sea, but was
unexpectedly the most comfortable and modern of our entire trip (read: actual hot
showers). Even more bizarre and unexpected was the fact that if you walk down a
scary road lined with crusty houses and stray farm equipment, you reach the Port
Ellen Cyber Cafe, which made my head explode.
of Islay was dodgy enough: the bus we caught from the ferry turned out to be the
school bus (which is reason enough to visit the Highlands in summer when this
doesn't happen). Anyway, there's a dusty grocery store that sells exactly one DVD
behind the counter, which I was pleased to find was Return of the King; then there's a
scary bar, and an even scarier bar with no windows. The first night we ate at the lame
White Hart Hotel restaurant, apparently run entirely by surly high schoolers, and the
second night at the decent Maharani Indian restaurant. I believe with that we had
exhausted all of our food options, so it was a good thing we left.
On the upside, the town smells perpetually of salty sea air mixed with burning peat.
This is thanks to the Port Ellen Maltings, where most of the barley for the island's
distilleries gets malted and dried over peat smoke...mmm, peat. I also noticed that
the water on Islay really is softer than the rest of Scotland for some reason, which
along with the peat smoke and the sea air is what makes Islay malts so distinctive.
Another plus was our B&B: the Askernish not only faced the sea, but was
unexpectedly the most comfortable and modern of our entire trip (read: actual hot
showers). Even more bizarre and unexpected was the fact that if you walk down a
scary road lined with crusty houses and stray farm equipment, you reach the Port
Ellen Cyber Cafe, which made my head explode.
The Askernish, (the house with the palm
trees at left), was conveniently adjacent to
the bus stop as well as the condemned Islay
Hotel. The owner Joy Prentice gave us a
dose of almost motherly hospitality and
great breakfasts, too. The B&B was
remarkable; the town was quite the slum.
trees at left), was conveniently adjacent to
the bus stop as well as the condemned Islay
Hotel. The owner Joy Prentice gave us a
dose of almost motherly hospitality and
great breakfasts, too. The B&B was
remarkable; the town was quite the slum.
Islay Life: Slow
After a dodgy first night spent in Port Ellen, we saw as much of Islay as the infrequent bus would let us. Which means we stopped
at Bowmore for twenty minutes to change buses, and made it as far as Port Charlotte before we had to come back home.
at Bowmore for twenty minutes to change buses, and made it as far as Port Charlotte before we had to come back home.
One awesome thing about tooling around Islay via public transport was getting to ride
the Postbus. In much of rural Scotland, where there are very few buses, the mail still has
to get delivered every day (except Sunday). One day, someone came up with the
brilliant idea of adding a few seats to the backs of the mail vans, and now you can ride
with the mailman as he does his rounds. Luckily, there's not a whole lot of mail stops
on Islay, so this works out quite well. Our mailman was a crazy old fellow who spoke a
language similar to English, and liked to get into swearing competitions with this one
lady on the bus. I may as well have been in Poland for all I understood. In any case, he
was more reliable than the driver for Islay Coaches, who only did his rounds when he
personally felt ready for such a commitment.
the Postbus. In much of rural Scotland, where there are very few buses, the mail still has
to get delivered every day (except Sunday). One day, someone came up with the
brilliant idea of adding a few seats to the backs of the mail vans, and now you can ride
with the mailman as he does his rounds. Luckily, there's not a whole lot of mail stops
on Islay, so this works out quite well. Our mailman was a crazy old fellow who spoke a
language similar to English, and liked to get into swearing competitions with this one
lady on the bus. I may as well have been in Poland for all I understood. In any case, he
was more reliable than the driver for Islay Coaches, who only did his rounds when he
personally felt ready for such a commitment.
Rockin' out with the mailman.
The Museum of Islay Life, set in a happy
location: a graveyard. To be fair, it used to
be a church until the minister realized he
was preaching to one farmer and some mice.
location: a graveyard. To be fair, it used to
be a church until the minister realized he
was preaching to one farmer and some mice.
My favorite item in the museum: the "bung
flogger." Now, now, children; a bung is the
cork that goes in the bung-hole of a whisky
barrel. Now, now, children.
flogger." Now, now, children; a bung is the
cork that goes in the bung-hole of a whisky
barrel. Now, now, children.
More whisky paraphernalia: an illicit still for
making whisky at home. Fun for the whole
family! If only I had large-ish copper tuns and half
a barrel kicking about, I could make some, too.
making whisky at home. Fun for the whole
family! If only I had large-ish copper tuns and half
a barrel kicking about, I could make some, too.
Port Charlotte is a lot prettier than Port Ellen, but with even fewer
establishments. The one thing they do have is the Museum of Islay Life,
a random collection of old stuff they've found in people's attics: black
and white photos, old kitchenware, Victorian toys, and of course, lots of
whisky- and farm-related accouterments. It's actually rather funny when
you find you're the only one in this converted church, and you've just
paid two pounds to stare at a weird garage sale where nothing's for sale.
Still, it was interesting enough to waylay us for a half an hour or so, and
just for me, there was a shed out in the graveyard that houses a bunch
of early medieval carved stones, small consolation for the fact that I
wouldn't be seeing any of Islay's church ruins.
After the museum, we stepped into the tearoom out front, where I
discovered they sold Islay Ales, from a spanking new local brewery.
Guessing (correctly) that I would never see them again outside of Islay, I
flipped out and bought five. Too bad they were pretty gross.
establishments. The one thing they do have is the Museum of Islay Life,
a random collection of old stuff they've found in people's attics: black
and white photos, old kitchenware, Victorian toys, and of course, lots of
whisky- and farm-related accouterments. It's actually rather funny when
you find you're the only one in this converted church, and you've just
paid two pounds to stare at a weird garage sale where nothing's for sale.
Still, it was interesting enough to waylay us for a half an hour or so, and
just for me, there was a shed out in the graveyard that houses a bunch
of early medieval carved stones, small consolation for the fact that I
wouldn't be seeing any of Islay's church ruins.
After the museum, we stepped into the tearoom out front, where I
discovered they sold Islay Ales, from a spanking new local brewery.
Guessing (correctly) that I would never see them again outside of Islay, I
flipped out and bought five. Too bad they were pretty gross.
Scottish distilleries buy their
casks from bourbon distilleries
in Kentucky. So we know
how this got here, then.
casks from bourbon distilleries
in Kentucky. So we know
how this got here, then.
Early medieval carved stones,
a clear reminder of just how
bored the Islay monks were.
a clear reminder of just how
bored the Islay monks were.
Whisky Time
Katie after her free sample.
Beautiful, innit? The copper
stills where the spirit is
distilled from the wash.
Smells like delicious.
stills where the spirit is
distilled from the wash.
Smells like delicious.
Quaffing the product of 55 hours of fermentation: it
tasted like a warm, 7% version of Belhaven St
Andrews Ale (or, like liquid smoke). For a while later
I could still feel the yeast bubbling in my stomach.
tasted like a warm, 7% version of Belhaven St
Andrews Ale (or, like liquid smoke). For a while later
I could still feel the yeast bubbling in my stomach.
After whizzing past the Bowmore and Bruichladdich Distilleries on the Postbus, it was finally
time to take a tour. I had originally wanted to hit all three of the ones near Port Ellen
(Laproaig, Lagavulin, and Ardbeg), but it turns out they only do tours at certain times of the
day. Since the Islay Coaches driver decided to come to the bus stop 15 minutes early, we
had to jog 2 miles down to the Lagavulin Distillery to make it on time. It was worth the
sweat: our tour was only four people including Katie and I, and they let us do anything we
wanted. I stuck my head in a mash tun that had been fermenting for 8 hours, and the
yeast-fumes almost knocked me out, it was great. After 55 hours, the beer-like wash is good
enough to drink, and so we did. Best distillery tour ever, and no cheesy videos, either.
They gave us our free sample in a lounge with big fat leather seats and a fireplace, chatting
about peat with the tour guide lady and the other two Dutch tourists. Like the rest of the
island's distilleries, Lagavulin has a dramatic location on the sea; this one in particular is also
overlooked by the quite busted Dunyveg Castle, which, and this was getting real old, we
didn't have time to explore because we had to catch the bus. That night, we watched bad
British reality tv, having unfortunately finished the Lord of the Rings trilogy the night before.
time to take a tour. I had originally wanted to hit all three of the ones near Port Ellen
(Laproaig, Lagavulin, and Ardbeg), but it turns out they only do tours at certain times of the
day. Since the Islay Coaches driver decided to come to the bus stop 15 minutes early, we
had to jog 2 miles down to the Lagavulin Distillery to make it on time. It was worth the
sweat: our tour was only four people including Katie and I, and they let us do anything we
wanted. I stuck my head in a mash tun that had been fermenting for 8 hours, and the
yeast-fumes almost knocked me out, it was great. After 55 hours, the beer-like wash is good
enough to drink, and so we did. Best distillery tour ever, and no cheesy videos, either.
They gave us our free sample in a lounge with big fat leather seats and a fireplace, chatting
about peat with the tour guide lady and the other two Dutch tourists. Like the rest of the
island's distilleries, Lagavulin has a dramatic location on the sea; this one in particular is also
overlooked by the quite busted Dunyveg Castle, which, and this was getting real old, we
didn't have time to explore because we had to catch the bus. That night, we watched bad
British reality tv, having unfortunately finished the Lord of the Rings trilogy the night before.
I've never read a better description for
anything, ever, and fear I never shall.
anything, ever, and fear I never shall.
One Crazy Trip Begets Another
One good thing about Port Ellen (and there aren't many so you have to cherish these) is that
you can wake up in the morning and get on the ferry without worrying about catching a
bus. An hour-long ferry and a three-hour-long bus later, we were back in Glasgow.
That evening I frantically planned my next trip. I was excited to see new lands, but I sort of
wished I was staying in Scotland, where there isn't much in the way of public transport but
there's an absolute glut of character and hospitality. Still, I stared at my maps and came up
with a rickety travel plan that would take me through all of England and Wales in about the
same amount of time I had spent just on Arran. I booked my first night's accommodation,
and the next morning as Katie went back to class, I hopped on the first train to England. I
was off on my own again, to see the rest of the nation until I got tired or my money ran out,
whichever came first. And seeing as everything in England is exponentially more expensive
than in Scotland, I was betting on going broke.
you can wake up in the morning and get on the ferry without worrying about catching a
bus. An hour-long ferry and a three-hour-long bus later, we were back in Glasgow.
That evening I frantically planned my next trip. I was excited to see new lands, but I sort of
wished I was staying in Scotland, where there isn't much in the way of public transport but
there's an absolute glut of character and hospitality. Still, I stared at my maps and came up
with a rickety travel plan that would take me through all of England and Wales in about the
same amount of time I had spent just on Arran. I booked my first night's accommodation,
and the next morning as Katie went back to class, I hopped on the first train to England. I
was off on my own again, to see the rest of the nation until I got tired or my money ran out,
whichever came first. And seeing as everything in England is exponentially more expensive
than in Scotland, I was betting on going broke.
The view from our window:
sunrise over Port Ellen.
sunrise over Port Ellen.
On to:
Back to:
Total travel time Glasgow-Arran, including layovers: 2.5 hours. Total
travel time Islay-Glasgow, including layovers: 5.5 hours. Total travel
time Arran-Islay, including layovers: oddly, also 5.5 hours.
travel time Islay-Glasgow, including layovers: 5.5 hours. Total travel
time Arran-Islay, including layovers: oddly, also 5.5 hours.
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