June 21, Saturday

Today’s post (mostly) by Adam:

Today we visited the island of Jura – home of Red Deer, a quirky whisky distillery and very, very little else.

Jura is almost 6 1/2 times the size of Manhattan Island, but has a total population of 181.

Save those who grew up in Alaska, it is not often you can find a location that feels so far away from everything else. There is summer ferry service from Islay to Jura, but no access directly from the island to the mainland of Scotland.

To give our stay on Jura a little more purpose, we were on a bit of a quest. It was on Jura that George Orwell stayed to write 1984. He rented a cabin on the far northern tip of the island (more on this here), desiring a location that he said was the “most un-get-attable” in the world.

An excerpt from the link:  

Barnhill, overlooking the sea at the top of a potholed track, was not large, with four small bedrooms above a spacious kitchen. Life was simple, even primitive. There was no electricity. Orwell used Calor gas to cook and to heat water. Storm lanterns burned paraffin. In the evenings he also burned peat. He was still chain-smoking black shag tobacco in roll-up cigarettes: the fug in the house was cosy but not healthy. A battery radio was the only connection with the outside world.

Orwell, a gentle, unworldly sort of man, arrived with just a camp bed, a table, a couple of chairs and a few pots and pans. It was a spartan existence but supplied the conditions under which he liked to work. He is remembered here as a spectre in the mist, a gaunt figure in oilskins.

He chose a cottage that was even more un-get-attable for us. We drove as far as we could on the island (there is only one road that degrades in quality the further north you go) until you finally reach a point where motorized vehicles are banned from proceeding any further. The rest of the way to his cottage (“Barnhill”) would require a 4-mile hike.

We didn’t plan for this – we were already hungry (Holden reminded us of this every 5 minutes) , didn’t have any water, and didn’t see much sense in an 8-mile walk just to look at an old cottage. So, we turned around, defeated, and started looking for any place that might serve some food. This depressed us some, because we enjoy chasing down rabbit holes and seeking out obscure locations, often requiring going to lengths that don’t make any sense. Still, we have our limits and had to let this one go.

Back along the southern part of the island, we did find a small cafe open in the village of Craighouse; we ordered up beef and venison burgers. Afterwards, everyone was feeling back to normal with some food and drink in their bellies.

After visiting the whisky distillery store and wandering around a bit on the beach, we returned to the ferry terminal to make the 10 minute ride back to Islay. By the time we got back to our cottage, it was wine time. We did some laundry, found more food and watched TV until bedtime.

First glimpse of Jura …

I bought a set of “airplane sized” bottles that feature each of their different expressions to try when I get back to the cottage. It is so strange to me to think that any of us can go down to the liquor store and find Jura on the shelves – and for a price in US$ cheaper than what I’m paying here in £. The speed and efficiency of global manufacturing, transportation and distribution of goods has got to be the most underrated advancement of civilization in the last 100 years.

No dryer at the cottage. Hanging out the unmentionables after washing. On this, the longest day of the year, we get plenty of evening sun to dry off the clothes.

June 22, Sunday

(Post by Brenda)
This morning Adam and I left the kids in the cottage (Isabella babysitting) and headed to the Lagavulin Distillery for their 9:30 a.m. tour.  We should have called ahead; the girl told us, “Sorry, we’re all booked up.  We have a 20-person tour arriving any minute.”  We made reservations for the 11:30 a.m. tour and went for a drive instead.

We stumbled on this little beach about 4 minutes down the road.  It was so nice we raced back to the house to get the kids.  We had about an hour to play before we needed to get back to the distillery for our appointment.

Isabella:  “OK … this isn’t totally lame.”

We’ve got the whole beach to ourselves! Josie even found two plastic shovels sticking out of the sand.  They’d clearly been there awhile, but they still worked just fine.

Me having a fabulous time … reading a good book (This is Where I Leave You, Jonathan Tropper) in a gorgeous setting.

Sand castle contest with the scrounged shovels.  The competition is intense and requires much concentration.  The losing castle gets trampled on.

Crab fisherman.  This photo doesn’t show it, but a flock of seagulls dogged this boat the whole time he was there.  The crabman would pull up the pots and throw back all the stuff he didn’t want; the seagulls feasted.

Laguvulin gave us a very nice tour, which was pretty much the same as the Glenfiddich tour we did a couple weeks ago.  The one key difference between the two processes is that Laguvulin smokes their malted barley with peat for several hours before sending it off to the fermentation stage.  It lends a very strong campfire aroma and flavor to the whisky.

The tour girl said that geologists had been out to study Islay’s peat fields and determined that if they continue to use it at the current rate, it will last another 10,000 years.  So, no worries about it running low.

My favorite part of the tour was the fact that little birds had moved into the buildings and built nests.  During the entire tour, birds would swoop down just inches in front of our faces (they were clearly used to groups of people traipsing through).  One of the whisky fermentation tanks had half of a hatched songbird egg resting on the top of it.  Outside on the docks, we were treated to the sight of a swan feeding her cygnet.  Adam pointed out that the only comments I made during the entire event were bird-related.  What can I say …. I’m not very interested in whisky but I love birds.

One interesting fact:  the entire operation only has about 20 employees, and most of them work in the front office.  The whisky itself is made by a team of 7 technicians.  Just think about that for a minute — a world-famous whisky, featured on a hit sitcom in America and found in every bar across the world, and it’s produced right here in these small buildings by SEVEN guys.  Each batch is personally tasted by one of them … no computers involved in that process.  They are still using equipment last upgraded and installed in the 1960s.  Seriously … seven guys.  That is just mind-blowing.

Adam wanted to buy a bottle of their Feis Ile 19-year whisky, which is only available for sale at the distillery.  They only release 3,000 bottles each year, and ours is #2530.  (They released it in May … they are almost sold out just a month later.)  It was barrelled in 1995 and I said to Adam, “Hey, that’s the year we got married!” and the tour/sales girl immediately said, “Hey, that’s the year I was born!”

My mind has been blown twice today.

Adam having the time of his life in the Lagavulin tasting room.

Icing on the cake; they let you keep the whisky glasses as souvenirs.

Later:  We had a 3:00 p.m. appointment at the horse riding stables.  They are appropriately old-worldly-looking stables.  That is a slate roof on the horse barn, for goodness sake.

The little girl in the white shirt was just finishing up her riding lesson when we showed up.  Her shirt reads:  I ♥ One Direction.

This was one unhappy sheep.  She was trapped in the iron cage awaiting shearing.  The guys in charge of the shearing were in no hurry.  They were sitting around on piles of wool enjoying cups of coffee.

Holden having fun but also a little ill at ease on his horse, Clyde.

Adam is on Tony.  (We called him Fat Tony.)  Tony is part Highland Pony and part Clydesdale, which is why he’s so much bigger than the other horses.

Me showing Holden how to “shorten the reins.”

Off we go!!!

Riding through the hills.  Gorgeous scenery.  Could it get better?

YES IT COULD!  We head off to the beach, which ticks off an item on my bucket list — ride a horse on a beach.

This is the coolest thing EVER.

We realized that with the helmets on and the similar coats and long braided hair, it’s really hard to tell Isabella and me apart.  Adam was in the back of the train and several times he addressed comments to me, only to discover it was Isabella in front of him.  I’m flattered and Isabella is insulted.

Josie was so silent on the ride we figured she wasn’t having any fun.  At the end, however, she declared it, “The most fun thing I’ve done in my entire life.”  She’s more on board than ever for taking riding lessons when we get back to Georgia at the end of the summer.

The girl in the blue shirt is one of our guides.  She’s a junior in college at Stirling University, doing this for summer work.  She’s been riding at these stables for 12 years.

All good things must come to an end.  Over!