The first signpost you see coming off the ferry at Port Ellen on Islay has only two words on it; it points right to ARDBEG and left to BOWMORE. Brilliant, I thought; a road sign that is made up of 100 per cent of distillery names; a proclamation that you are on a Island where making of whisky is absolutely integral to the place itself, where directions are defined by drink!
This was, patently, a great place to start the distillery tour. I love Islay whiskies. There are seven working distilleries on the island - pretty good given that there are less than three thousand people on the place - each producing their own distinctive whiskies, and I have a deep affection for all of them. I have favourites amongst those seven basic malts; but they're basically in my top twenty Scotches. This may, I suppose, over the course of the next two or three months as I visit distilleries throughout Scotland and taste whiskies I've only ever heard of before (and in a few cases, never heard of before), but I doubt it will make that much difference; it's hard to believe there are tastes as dramatic as the Islay malts that have somehow escaped the attention of me and my pals.The reason I've taken to them so much is, I suppose, that Islay whiskies are just generally bursting with flavour. Actually, make that bursting with flavours, plural. I came to the realisation many years ago that I like big, strong, even aggressive tastes: cheddars so sharp they make your eyes water, curries in general, though preferably fairly hot, Thai meals, garlic-heavy Middle-Eastern mezes, Chilli-saturated Mexican dishes, hugely fruity Ozzie wines and thumpingly, almost aggressively flavoured whiskies (for the record things I don't like are: Brussels sprouts, marzipan, cherries and Amaretto. Plus one other category of foodstuff that we'll come to later...it's a bit embarrassing).
Distinguishing between different styles of Islays, the most obvious micro area lies in the south, on the shore stretch of coast - extravagantly frayed, wildly indented, profusely hummocked ad multifariously cragged - facing south east towards the Mull of Kintyre.
The three southern coastal whiskies of Islay - with Laphroaig in particular providing the radical example - constitute what is almost a different drink from whisky. The distinction is that sharp; I know several people who like their drink, love their whisky - be it the stuff you'd serve to somebody who has severely overstayed their welcome or the special reserve you'd only bring out for the most special of special occasions - who hate 
Ardbeg, Lagavulin and Laphroaig with a vengeance. Of the three, they usually especially hate Lagavulin and Laphroaig, and, out that pair, reserve their most intense aversion for Laphroaig. ... The Islay distilleries are all pretty spoiled when it comes to setting. The two least favoured are 
Bruichladdich and Bowmore, the former because it's just a pleasant assemblage of buildingsby a nice wee village on a stretch of shore which is by turns sandy and rocky, with a broad, shallow sea loch in front and low, tree-lined hills behind (see, its actually in a pretty damn spiffing situation, but we are talking relative values here); the latter because it's roughly similar context on the opposite side of Loch Indaal and is part of the town of Bowmore. In fact, the distillery's so intergrated into the rest of the town that, when its stills are producing, the excess hot water helps to heat the municipal swimming pool next door. Again, Bowmore, Islay's effective capital, is a fine, attractive little town and no disgrace at all to the smart, tidy distillery on its southern perimeter, it's just that the other Islay distilleries are so much more dramatic in their surrounding.The three south coasters look out to the long arm of the sea that is the ? well, to be honest I'm not sure. Even after scrutinising my dad's old Admiralty charts I can't decide whether it's a sort of out-pouching of the Irish sea, part of the Atlantic or the start of the sound of Jura. Anyway it's deepish water, and can be wild in a winter storm. Small islands - more like jagged scatters of rock - pierce the water offshore and the distilleries look sort of nestled into the broken folds of the sea -facing, land, as if they've squatted there amongst the boulders, lochans and trees and then sort of wriggled about to get themselves hunkered down and comfortable.
They look elegant. They have whitewashed walls, black roofs and black detailing, pagodas standing proud, clipped lawns ad a general air of discreet pride. Handily, all of themhave their names in VERY LARGE LETTERS painted in black on their tallest seaward walls, so if you take photo from the right angle you never need to scratch your head and mutter, Well, I think it looks like Laphroaig, but maybe it's Ardbeg ...
Caol Ila and Bunnahabhain sit in even more dramatic scenery, wedged at the bottom of steep hillsides as though teetering on the brink of falling in to the sea, looking respectively across and up the sound of Jura, with the Paps of Jura across rising in an appropriately, if colossally, mammiform manner across the water. There used to be a quite spectacularly complete but rusty wreck lying at a steep angle up on the rocks just along the coast from Bunnahabain - I remember seeing it from the ferry as we approached Colonsay, a dozen years or so ago - but the same stormy seas that drove the ship there in the first place have pounded it to pieces since and there's little left to see now.Given its remote and wild situation it seems almost odd that Bunnahabhain produces what is in some ways the lightest, least dramatic Islay whisky; it's still quite oily and salty while being moderately sherry-sweet and has a hint of peat, but it's a mellow drink compared to the others, and also compared to its dramatic, throw-down setting. I feel I'm kind of damning it with faint praise here, but it's actually a very fine malt, and if all the Islays were as ferociously heavy hitting as Laphroaig, brandishing their peat, smoke and iodine in your face, the island would lose a great deal; Bunnahabhain is more the strong, silent type, and none the worse for that. Quite a lot of it goes into Black Bottle, making it perhaps the best reasonably- priced blend on the market, certainly for Islay lovers.
Extracts from Raw Spirit by Iain Banks published by Century; The Random House Group Limited http://www.randomhouse.co.uk/
Hey, buy the book. I read it last year while being driven around Skye in search of something resembling August weather and it certainly coloured my whisky purchasing on the island and en route back to the land of the semi-free.
http://www.scotlandwhisky.com/355124/355418
Most of the photos are from http://www.islay.org.uk/index.php?x=browse&category=2
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