Day 8 -- Thursday, the 3rd July
Since our imposed breakfast time is later than usual, JS and I watch Gary Numan's concert at Glastonbury on the telly. His brand of goth rock could hardly be less adapted to rural Scotland, but, if we abstract where we are, it is a good performance.
At 8:30, we are at the table.
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| Our (non-full) Scottish breakfast |
Breakfast is delicious Allt Arais is genuinely a good place to stay: it is comfy, quiet, the breakfast is solid. However, it has perhaps the most-unwelcoming host I have met.
Clearly, with breakfast at 8:30, we missed the 8:55 ferry. The next one is at 9:55, so we can adopt a leisurely pace.
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| Here is our mean of transportation |
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| At low tide, Raasay Pier presents a blind wall to the ferry passenger |
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| adc photographs the mountain she conquered yesterday |
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| See the result! |
We land in Sconser half-an-hour later, as planned. We then drive south towards Broadford. Indeed, JS found a bakery on the way that we are all keen to try: Lean to Coffee.
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| Inside, a Dutch lass is quadruple-plaiding it |
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| Also, PASTRY!!1 |
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| Are we indoors, or outdoors? |
From there, we take the road to Kylerhea. Because we could not take the early ferry from Raasay to Skye, we will likely not have time to sail to Glenbeg and back on the ferry we could not use a few days ago, but we still want to see it. The road there is wonderful, if pretty challenging. It becomes even more so when the weather takes a turn for the worse and it starts pelting down. We come across a motorcyclist with a side-car and wonder if the vehicle is amphibious. Perhaps it is a fishbowl in disguise? We reach Kylerhea in a thick fog as well.
We certainly have no time for the crossing, now, but the road ends, with the ferry as a last frontier before the water. No car park, no construction, hardly a passing place to turn around.
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| The world's last turntable ferry |
The crew of the vessel wave for me to climb on board and join the only other car, but that would cost us over an hour that we have not. I wave thanks-but-no-thanks and laboriously turn around. I feel bad for going all the way just to give up metres from the prize, and would love to help keep the operation afloat (pun intended), but the weather also promises a miserable time. This about-turn is certainly the rational thing to do.
As we come down the hills that separate Kylerhea from Broadford, the fog clears up; the rain continues, though. Back on the A87, we stop at The Misty Bottle where JS buys beer. We then head southwest to Torabhaig.
The distillery is a visitor centre that happens to make whisky. The tour that has started a few minutes ago looks good and detailed, even if strangely led by an American. As at Raasay, there is a bar that serves food and the local whisky. They have a selection of their core range offerings, though none of the distillery-exclusive single casks that are available in the shop. Wasted opportunity again. We leave broucouille (comme on dit dans le Bouchonnois). The sight of Castle Chamuis is a meek consolation: it is so wet we dare not take pictures, let alone go closer.
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| Not true: we take this one |
From there, we head to Sleat. Praban na Linne is there, and their shop is still as welcoming as in my memory, stuck in time, to a degree. As we arrive, we receive a text from Sea Harris: there will be no excursion tomorrow and Saturday seems compromised too. The weather. More on that later.
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| Ancient bottlings in the Gaelic Whisky Collection |
We have a nice, friendly tasting in Sleat. We try the most-recent incarnations of their Poit Dhubh expressions. The lady tells me they are phasing out the 21yo -- a pity, as it is my favourite, today, and they have no bottle for sale. I confirm that Torabhaig is the brainchild of Sir Iain Noble, who founded Praban na Linne, and discover that it was taken forward by someone else, eventually. Here is a man who spent decades setting up a business, buying land, planning and obtaining the necessary permissions to build a distillery, only for someone else to walk it in after his death. That explains why Torabhaig showcase Mossburn Distillers, their proprietor, yet make no mention of Praban na Linne. Ah! well.
We leave whiskyless, but heavy with books. From there, and since the weather is still dreadful, we continue our whisky pilgrimage.
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| On the way, this out-of-control waterfall near Sligachan proves a hit with the tourists |
Carbost is waiting.
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| You know... ...to prove to adc that it exists, after she never saw it in 1993 |
Talisker is another flavour of Disneyland. Groups of twelve visitors follow one another as if on a conveyor belt. The shop is very much in the style of the one at Caol Ila, which is to say very commercial. That said, they have the most-interesting bottling we will see all trip, a Talisker 46yo 1976/2022 (50.9%, OB Prima & Ultima, Refill Hogshead + Butt + Puncheon, 771b). Now, the price stings a little bit, of course.
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| The busy shop at Talisker distillery |
Talisker also has a bar, and what they serve there is very impressive. They feature drams for every purse: most of what they have is available in the shop, and most of what is available in the shop is at the bar, even some of the Prima & Ultima offerings. Nailed it.
We still leave Talisker empty-handed, and the highlight of the halt is seeing two grey herons in Loch Harport.
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| I mean... |
Back in Portree, we call at Isle of Skye Distillers. They are now open. They have a small selection of bottles, mostly local-ish, though no exclusives, despite what they told DH. adc finds a tasting set of Raasay that is exactly what she wanted and that Raasay itself did not have. We return to the car, annoyed that we had to pay for three hours' parking for a twenty-minute shopping trip with virtually no shopping to show for it. At least, I am annoyed. More than I should be, probably. Story of my life.
We head to Uig where we comfortably arrive with an hour to kill. The brewery next to the ferry terminal has nothing that tempts us and the sandwich shop, Skye's the Limit, is closed, despite closing time being thirty minutes in the future. Our choices are CalMac food in an hour, or a rushed meal at The Pier Restaurant. I insist that, "CalMac, c'est pas top, mais le restaurant, c'est Pier." Ha! Ha! In truth, I am the only one who kind of want to go to that restaurant, so it is an easy choice.
We board the vessel, assault the canteen, eat our grub and plant ourselves in a row of seats for some shut-eye. Me at least: I feel as if I had driven hundreds of kilometres, today. Oh! I have.
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| My CalMac & Cheese -- with chips, just for dom666 |
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| adc's Steak & Ale Pie |
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| JS's CalMac & Cheese (note the ketchup) |
Around a hundred minutes later, we disembark in Tarbert. Where is the distillery? Well, it is almost on the boat, is it not? More on that later.
An easy thirty-minute drive on excellent roads with killer mountain and sea views takes us to Leverburgh, at the south end of Harris.
As we stop the car, seven families of greylag geese hop into the loch in front of our accommodation. We also spot a dozen mallards and three scaups. Binocs at the ready!
We enter Lingay House, our homebase for the next few days, via the back door as instructed (it is a bit odd, but whatever) and are asked to remove our shoes. It is, of course, not a problem, other than the hosts have theirs on. Double standards. I am offered a whisky while still carrying the suitcases (The Hearach (46%, OB, Bourbon + Oloroso + Fino Casks) 7/10, not sure which batch), only to find out a minute later that it is not complimentary. Quite a contrast with the (cheaper) B&B in Portree, where we were told: "There is a bottle [of Talisker here], help yourselves to it as much as you want, it is free of charge."
The episode leaves a sour taste. All in all, there are weird vibes in this place. Let us see how we feel after a night's sleep. Oh! Here is my whisky... in a tumbler! Luckily no ice. Good thing I specified a single!
The rooms are Spartan: a clothes bar with a few hangers, a couple of shelves too low to put anything other than shoes (which are in the hallway, remember?), and a bedsit. It is also twin beds. adc has bunk beds in her room. Neither of the rooms has any shelf space in the bathroom even for a toothbrush. Now, I am not looking for a palace, let us be clear. But there may be a disconnect between the price and the practicality of the amenities. On the up side, shower gel, shampoo and hand cream. It is not as ubiquitous as one may think.
We are tired enough to not really care. More tomorrow.
