A little island full of whisky

I never learned to drive, so occasionally, I find myself standing alone on the side of the road in a remote location asking myself… “Was this a bad idea?”

This happened a lot in Scotland, but nowhere more than on Islay.

Islay is a small island that is technically just 72 miles from Glasgow… and yet, the only way to get there in practice is a pricey flight that leaves twice a day, or a convoluted patchwork of trains, ferries, and buses.

I opted for the latter. For the views, the vibes, and the budget. 💁🏻‍♀️

So, why did I go through the trouble? I’m sure you can guess.

Islay has just 3,000 residents but 10 distilleries.

Most of them are institutions in the Scotch whisky world, where they’re known for their distinctive, peaty style. (Peat is a type of soil made of decomposed plants, kinda like a precursor to coal, to put it simply.)

Wood was hard to come by in places like Islay, so local distillers used peat fires to dry the malted barley they used to make whisky. It gave their spirit a distinctive smoky, earthy flavor they’re now known for.

One of my favorite Scotch brands, Bruichladdich, makes both peated and unpeated whisky on the island, and I wanted to see their distillery firsthand for the podcast.

So, off I went!

What I found was a quiet island with large distilleries, small B&Bs, and not much else.

For 2.5 days, I ate every meal at the local pub alongside old men—all fishermen, and all eager to complain about the new ferry captain who, they feel, is overly cautious. (Insert foreshadowing music here. 👀)

I drank whisky, talked to other whisky nerds, bought a blanket scarf out of dire necessity, and had a good time seeing another side of Scotland.

And, most importantly, I was reminded, yet again:

To just say, “Fuck it, I’ll figure it out” and get on the train/plane/ferry/whatever when I hear about something cool.
As long as I have my passport, wallet, and smartphone, things will work out one way or another.
And the more remote the place, generally the more helpful the people.

After all, no amount of Googling can really answer the question, “How reliable are the buses on Islay during the off-season, actually?”

And no amount of prep could have prepared me for a crazy windstorm that knocked out power across the island—forcing Bruichladdich to close well before the next bus, and causing that new captain to cancel my ferry off the island.

There’s an amount of just showing up and finding out that has to happen, and that’s always a good exercise for my Type-A self.

My tour guide at Bruichladdich gave me a ride back to my hotel, and I got a nice little chat about life on the island and a doorstep drop-off.

I snagged one of the last seats on the only flight out, ate the $200, and just tried to be grateful that I had a 45-minute trip back to Glasgow instead of an 8-hour one.

So, yeah, note to self: Pack the protein bar in case there’s nowhere open to eat lunch. But you may also find local kids throwing a bake sale, and that’s a lot better.