Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Fair enough. Given that Les and I have had two boats now both called The Boat and
when I was a child all two of my hamsters were called Hammy, I'm in no position to cav-
il.
Gordon takes a hosepipe filling a barrel at one point and lets the clear raw spirit pour
over his hands for a second, then pats his palms together and sniffs the result, inviting
me to do the same. Washing your hands in spirit; cool, in every sense. The smell is not
unpleasant; very chemically, astringent, a little sweet.
The finished whisky, after it's been properly matured, is briny, fresh as you like and
only slightly peaty. There's no phenolising of the barley, so the peat flavour that is there
must come from the water. Old Pulteney is a quick maturer, often bottled at eight years
old, and the 12-year-old I got was sea-air bracing with touches of a clean, sharp sweet-
ness. I don't recall ever having tried this whisky before but I'm extremely glad I have
now. What with this, Ord, Clynelish, Brora and Glenmorangie I seem to be developing a
real taste for these far north-easters.
The drive back is notable for an unimpeded full-bore climb out of the depths at Ber-
riedale Braes - when a slope has one of those deep gravel run-offs for suddenly brake-free
heavies you know it's a serious gradient - a pit stop at the Morangie House Hotel in Tain,
a quick photo at Balblair distillery (I have yet to track down a bottle of this stuff) and
a slight but entirely worthwhile detour via the highly splendid A836, a lightly trafficked
route since the Dornoch Bridge was opened and just one of the most fun roads in this part
of Scotland; effectively an A-road that's become a fast, sky-exposed GWR simply by be-
ing bypassed.
The next morning it's a kipper for breakfast, which, compared to your average Full
Scottish is positively healthy (compared to the dread beguilements of the Buffet-the-
waistline-slayer option it's
incredibly
healthy). It's another beauty of a day, a circum-
stance that feels only fitting given that we have the very pleasant prospect ahead of us of
a drive home with a stop off for an extended tasting tour at what is for many people the
distillery which produces entirely the best whisky in the whole wide world; Macallan.
Macallan. I almost changed my name for this whisky. Well, sort of. Back in 1985-86,
after I'd had a couple of mainstream novels published, I'd decided to go back to my first
love and try to get some of my science fiction published too. At the time my hardback
publishers, Macmillan, didn't really publish SF so I was expecting to go elsewhere with
it. Using a different name for the SF novels seemed like a good idea, just so that people
didn't get confused. I came up with the name John B. Macallan. These were my two fa-
vourite whiskies at the time; Johnny Walker Black Label was my favourite blend and
Macallan was my favourite single malt.
