Without exception, everyone of the locals that we met and interacted with were amazingly friendly. The Scots have a bit of a reputation for having a personality akin to their prickly thistle, but that wasn’t our experience here. I have only been to Scotland once before and that was a trip to Edinburgh, where I wouldn’t say the people were unfriendly by any means, but the Ileach were markedly different.

Our publican was a salesman through and through whose chief aim seemed to be to convince us that whatever we could possibly want could be found at his hotel. A guided tour showing us every aspect of our room, the hotel and grounds to a proud walkthrough of his extensive menu was our introduction to him. Throughout our trip he was impeccably dressed and groomed in his suit while running about chatting to every guest while managing the bar, kitchen and hotel. He was like a Scottish Tasmanian Devil running by and enquiring about how you’re doing, how you slept and how your day was. He would barely wait long enough for an answer before disappearing with a thumbs up and an “Aye, that’s grand. That’s what important!”

We spent a good deal of time on Islay driving around and discovering new places. It was quite peaceful as our car stereo came equipped with a cassette deck and nothing else. Occasionally we could get a radio station playing either country music or a talk show in Gaelic. Generally we just drove around having a conversation or enjoying the sights in silence occasionally punctuated by my “Look out! Sheep!” every time one would bounce across the road in front of us.

When driving in the car you can’t pass another car without receiving a wave. People on the side of the road will wave at you. When walking about you can’t pass somebody on the sidewalk without a comment about the lovely weather and a how are you doing. Visits into shops are never of the quick “I’ll just pop in” variety as they will have an entire conversation with you ranging from the weather to whisky to history to the role of the Scotland in the UK or the UK in the EU.

And the Scots are proud of being Scots. English pounds are brought in by tourists and promptly deposited into bank accounts, because the only notes we saw in circulation were Scottish. Three different banks mint three different varieties which I’m certain is done to spite the English. They even have a £1 note. Many of the plates on cars bore an SCO with St. Andrew’s cross rather than the familiar GB and EU ring of stars.

While Scotland might have a bit of a chip on the shoulder about England, there were a fair amount of English who had moved to Islay. The man who ran Islay Woolen Mills, supplier of the Royal tartans and Hollywood movies featuring men wearing plaid skirts, was a Yorkshireman who relocated 25 years ago. He loved the island and had many great stories to share as he gave us a tour and demonstration of tartan making. In the end he betrayed his transplant status; when we mentioned the distilleries he shrugged and said, “I prefer beer.” You can take the man out of Yorkshire…

Besides the locals there were a fair amount of us whisky tourists. We met three Yanks from Rhode Island who were great fun and we hope to be able to see them again next year. There were a couple of Indian and Japanese tourists but most people originated closer to Islay. While there were a few English and Scots the other countries were more represented, with the exception of Spain to Mi Mujer’s disappointment. There were many Germans, French and Poles but the group that was by far the largest were the Scandinavians. No matter where we went, we would encounter at least a few Swedes or Norwegians. I had no idea they liked Islay whisky so much.

I would have liked to have rented bikes, but they aren’t feasible for long distance traveling. Especially not on one lane roads. But I was envious of the groups of Swedes who would drink quite a few whiskies at a distillery before hopping on their bikes to disappear with a drunken Swedish song.

Whisky is a big part of life on that island. Aside from the people that the distilleries directly employ, it is clear that they are the engine of the economy. Almost everything else seems designed to support them or the tourism that they bring in. The whisky makes it into everyday life in surprising ways as well. 

For my first breakfast on the island I thought I’d have some toast and marmalade. The marmalade seemed a tad runny in its bowl, but I’m not too picky. After the first bite, and a bit of a coughing fit, I realized that it was indeed orange marmalade, albeit orange marmalade with a shot of whisky thrown into it. I grew to really enjoy that marmalade on toast in the morning, but the first time you have whisky at half eight in the morning when you’re not expecting it, it comes as a bit of a shock. Of course a fried breakfast is traditional and I didn’t want to let my hosts down. I dutifully ate two fried eggs, black sausage and rashers of bacon. Truly a coronary on a plate, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t eat it every morning. Somehow, on Islay it just seemed right. Of course on returning home, my intestines displayed their disapproval with my holiday diet and I’m now back to a slightly lighter fare with no whisky on my toast.

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