Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
half-hour or so he's been speaking. I become aware he's just asked me a question. He's
looking at me expectantly.
'What?' I ask, smiling reassuringly.
'You got all that?' McCartney asks. 'You ready to play?'
I haven't the foggiest concept how even to start. 'Good grief, yes!' I exclaim, slapping
the table enthusiastically. 'What are we waiting for?'
* * *
Coffee and bacon rolls for breakfast, then into Dufftown (we take a photo at Mortlach
distillery), then we take in Glendronach distillery, hidden away off the beaten metalling
in a shallow dip between lots of trees and productive-looking fields. We have a natter to
a very nice lady called Allison who opens the shop up specially for us. I buy 15-year-
old bottlings of Glendronach, Glenburgie, Glentauchers, Glencadam, Miltonduff and Tor-
more, and a 12-year-old Ardmore. The Glendronach we tried on site (I had but the merest
sip, honest) was a rich, sweet concoction, with some peat and smoke and quite a strong
sherry finish. Very palatable, and I look forward to making its acquaintance, and that of
its companions - all fine, if unexceptional - again when we get to that bit of the cupboard
under the stairs in my parents' house, probably some time in the next eighteen months.
We have a bar lunch in Turriff then swing back to Keith and the Strathisla distillery
where we have a sort of self-escorted tour with a handy pamphlet and lots of signs
and explanatory posters about the place (though at a fiver a head for do-it-yourself, it
might seem a bit steep). Still, it's an attractive distillery of well-kept old buildings, nicely
presented, and there's a distinct and even opulent Highland country house flavour to the
Visitor Centre lounge. You suspect the five quid goes to paying off the investment needed
to create all this.
McCartney suddenly decides he's a fan of the car park; specifically the size of the
car parking bays in the car park, which are brightly outlined with smart white paint and
Very Wide Indeed; parking spaces you could reverse a Lincoln Continental into with all
its doors open and still not hit anything on either side. Well, kinda.
I try to convince him that the weird kink in the Lyne arm of the second spirit still is of
more intrinsic interest, but he's still banging on about how all car parks ought to be this
well laid out.
We get to Glen Grant, just outside the town of Rothes, before it closes. McCartney
grumbles about the car park not being quite so generously laid out as Strathisla, but some-
how life goes on. The walk from the car park to the distillery proper is beautiful and
peaceful, under tall mixed trees and in the midst of flowers and shrubs. The distillery
buildings are a quiet riot of Scottish Baronial, all turrets and crow-stepped gables. We're
kind of toured-out so we just buy some 10-year-old in the smart, modern, pale-wood-and-
