The King over the Sea: Part 3

 The Isle of Islay was shrouded in mists and mystery when we dropped anchor on Sunday morning. Was ready for my breakfast, along with preparing for the guided walk to https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laphroaig distillery for a “ wee dram, Jimmy”.

Following what was a bumpy ride on the Zodiac we clambered up the pontoon to be greeted by a war memorial and our guide “Jock”who, I discovered, was a retired game keeper on Islay.

The walk was leisurely paced, Jock stopping every few yards to impart some local knowledge. Did you know that George Orwell spent a night in the local nick - now sadly closed due to  a lack of crime. Port Ellen’s high street on a grey Sunday morning shrieked non- conformity. The houses were in bleak dark stone and the church couldn’t be any blacker if it tried. We were, however, carried along by Jock’s promise of a “wee dram” at Laphroaig’s. 

Did you know the Labour politician Lord George Robertson was born in Port Ellen. Interestingly we were told he’d been NATO’s Secretary General but there was no mention of his Labour roots - SNP censorship?

To be honest the road to the “wee dram”was pretty boring - enlivened by being shown the only winery on the island, if not Scotland. They might be able to grow malting barley but not grapes here. Sure enough the winery turned out fruit wines. A massive disappointment.

Whisky is good business, there’s a new distillery being built everyday with unnatural large modern constructions sitting incongruously in this island setting.

We arrived at the distillery- all white - to reflect the sun light and not heat the building full of highly inflammable booze. Also, all the building are wrapped in copper strips to conduct away lightning discharges: it happens a lot on low lying Islay.

The sampling centre is very attractive. Once past the merchandise- whisky soaked bomber jackets, diaries and whisky drinking equipment a very attractive barmaid will pour you a “wee dram”. There’s a tap from which pours pure peaty water so you can have the real experience. 

After the free “dram” you relax into  spending cash on bottles of single malt. I bought a bottle.

On the way back I fell in with this lovely lady. She’d had progressive Parkinson’s for more than ten years and wasn’t going to let her disability define her. 

Back on board our own Dawn Treader I succumbed to Morphia after lunch. The day was rounded of with a viewing of “Blade Runner” made 40 years ago!