Blair Athol Distillery

Blair Athol Distillery is in striking contrast to Edradour. Neither small, nor quaint, Blair Athol caters very much to the tourist aspect that surrounds all of Pitlochery. Now this is not to say it wasn't an enjoyable tour, au contrare, it was, and quite. Unlike our previous guide, however, this particular young man seemed to be doing it from rote rather than love; it very obviously was just a summer job for him. However, despite our guide's obvious diffidence, he did impart some knowledge to each of us on the tour. One fact that escaped me as I was back taking photos (you weren't supposed to photograph the interious, thus my hanging back) was that you should not stick your head inside a vat during the fermentation process. Therefore when I did exactly that upon catching up, I damn near fell over & I'm absolutely positive I burned my sinus passages. Shite that hurt! After the tour, we retired to the tasting room where each of us had a finger or two of several diffrent whiskeys. Until the last one, I didn't care for them. The last one (I don't recall the name, but I'm sure George or Missie would) was actually exceptional, but didn't come from that distillery. It was from a sister distillery that is part of the Arthur Bell & Sons Scotch conglomerate. The distillery itself, as you can see is beautiful. Well-cared for, it sits just outside the picturesque town of Pitlochrie at the gateway to the Higlands of Scotland. Should you find yourself in the area, it's well worth the stop! Wastrel On! (Listening to: Hark the Herald Angels Sing by Johnny Cash)

Edradour Distillery Gift Shop

The whole experience of Edradour was so charming & peaceful that I needed to write about it a little more. The experience started in a gathering spot where we wedged ourselves in amongst some stinky German folks (a German tourist bus had arrived just moments before us. And it's not that all Germans are stinky mind you...I'm guessing this batch had come straight here from Germany with no rest-stop). So, after a brief history of the distillery & scotch-making in general, we split into two groups. The first group (mostly the Germans) went and took the tour. The second group, us, went to the tasting room where we were offered a few fingers worth of the Edradour spirit while we watched a "commercial" extolling the virtues of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Very nice, very professional but a bit over the top. I mean, we were already there weren't we? Was there any reason to regail us with that? Marita Beth & numerous others didn't finish their scotch, so I drank it for them. No reason to waste it, eh? Now, onto the tour. The tour itself lasted only about 40 minutes and took us through each step of the process. Because of largneess of the groups, the tour was considerably less personal than I believe it might have been otherwise. However, we had a very knowledgeable, engaging guide who instructed us about many of the varying aspects of spirit-making. This photo is of the gift shop looking up the hill to the tasting room. As you can see, it's not all buildings and equipment. Much of the foreground belongs to a typically beautiful garden. A true delight. Drink Edradour Single-Malt. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Surfing With a Spoon by Midnight Oil)

Edradour Distillery

Established in 1825, Edradour Distillery is Scotland's smallest distillery and charmingly relies on that aspect. Almost as if they refuse to grow, they wear that badge proudly claiming that their single-malt (is there any other kind?) is still hand-made using the same techniques established 150 years ago. Apparently, the distillery still uses much of the original equipment and still only produces 12 casks of scotch-whiskey per week. An astonishly small amount, truly. I'd been introduced to Edradour by Lynette & BJ many years ago and it was a treat to have the rare opportunity to visit the distillery. Getting there was nearly as enjoyable as Edradour sits in one of the most magnificently beautiful regions in Scotland...indeed in the world. It lies at the end of a very small track that is perilous enough to navigate when you haven't been to a scotch sampling. I'm just thankful that the bus-driver for the German tourist group that was there declined to partake. The bus itself was wider than the road, imagine if the driver were drink-driving, too. I shudder to think. The photo is very nearly all of the distillery. In fact with the exception of the gift shop out of view to the left, and the cask storage facility behind the building to the right, it is the distillery. As they claim, "small!" Wastrel On! (Listening to: Hot Shot by Karen Young)

The Glory Hole

Caithness Glass is an amazing place. A tourist trap, a museum, a gift shop, a restaurant & a workshop all rolled into one structure in Perth, Scotland. Although I, personally, wasn't overly interested in going there a batch of us did so nonetheless. And all because our dear friend Shannon Morgan (of Girl Glass) has been instructing Ginger, Marita Beth and several other "baby gaffers" in the fine art of glass-blowing. So, of course we had to stop at one of the largest glass blowing plants in Europe. And I'm glad we did. Caithness Glass has this workshop environment where there are 10 or so workers creating pieces at any given time. It's huge! And, like the faire environment, the spectators can be right there next to the worker as the item is being created. There is also an upper balcony allowing for a slightly different perspective of the same arena. This photo is of a piece being inserted back into the "glory hole" to be heated back to a working temperature. Ginger, Marita Beth, Larry & Denise could have stayed and watched all day. I'm a little more ADD than that and fear that after the second piece had been created I moved on. I took a quick tour through the giftshop, bought a book, then went and sat down in the restaurant and had a beer (big surprise there, eh?). It wasn't too long after that that the rest of the party showed up & we left. But, we left with glass in hand and a newly engendered respect for the craft. Long may hand-made traditions survive. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Learn to Fly by The Foo Fighters)