The world outside my sleeper train compartment was black and white: trees with feathery branches against snowy fields; The gray area of the A9 and then the showy steel of a river; white candy clouds against an increasingly paler sky.
As I climbed into my rental car heading east from Inverness, the landscape was slowly taking on color, though the hills were still covered in snow under the milky sun. I was heading towards Moray Speyside, which borders the Cairngorms to the south and the wide Moray Firth to the north. Throughout my weekend, the latter’s water moved in and out of view while the mountains remained tantalizingly distant.
The region is famous for its whisky, and rightly so. Moray Speyside is home to more than 50 distilleries, more than a third of Scotland’s total. Even though I knew this, I was surprised by the number of brown distillery signs that greeted me; As soon as I passed one arrow marked pagoda, I would see another.
It seemed only right that whiskey should be my first stop, and so I headed seven miles south of the small town of Forres, through muddy, rutted snow-covered quiet single-track roads towards the Dunphail Distillery.
It’s the newest kid on the whiskey-making block, but it doesn’t look like it’s from a 160-year-old farmhouse. The most interesting thing about Dunphail at the moment is not actually the whiskey, which has just started to be produced and needs to mature for three years to be considered whisky. The owners decided to pull back on processes, away from the computers and off-site malting now common in distilleries in Scotland.
Our affable guide, Mike, led our group into a low-ceilinged room; Here a perfect rectangle of barley lay on the ground germinating. We took turns raking with a contraption one of the distillers made from a huge rake and a few hammers to mimic a traditional hand tool. At the main distillery, where the scent of yeasty, fruity mash surrounded us, the spirits vault (usually locked) was left open so distillers could interact with the (new brand) spirit being produced rather than relying on computer readouts. .
In the absence of its own single malt, the tasting session at the end involved testing this new brand, which at 63.5% ABV was significantly stronger than those that would be sold in bottles. “Reminds me of standing in a baker’s door,” Mike said as I dipped my finger into my glass (I was driving, after all), and I could see what he meant – fruity at first, followed by a light, savory barley note, I was drawn to all the sensory effects of the experience and what would happen in a few years. He had the expectation of
The road was covered in thick ice, and I spent most of the hike crunching through the inch-deep snow on the side of the road to avoid a funny fall.
Visiting this distillery while driving is a bit of a hassle. Luckily, this was quickly rectified at my hotel, The Dowans, a stately Victorian hotel overlooking the Spey valley just outside the village of Aberlour. After dinner, I holed up in the narrow whiskey bar The Still; but with more than 500 bottles lining the walls, it looked more like a library than a bar. In truth, I arrived in the region unconvinced of the benefits of whiskey (I’m a die-hard Islay fan), but with the help of receptionist Courtney, a bartender, I was introduced to two different local drams that quickly proved me wrong. .
The 107-mile-long River Spey winds along the northwestern edge of the Cairngorms national park and flows into the Moray Firth. I had glimpsed it shining in the valleys below me the day before yesterday, but I only really saw it at Aberlour; It was as dark as a well-aged whiskey. On the advice of Steph Murray, who owns and runs The Dowans with her younger sister and parents, I walked two and a half miles east down the Speyside Road to the tiny village of Craigellachie next door; just part of the 65-mile walking trail that follows the river from Buckie on the coast to Aviemore. The road was covered in thick ice, and I spent most of the hike crunching through the inch-deep snow on the side of the road to avoid a funny fall. Although the main road accompanied me most of the way, I was hardly aware of it; My eyes were instead focused on the wide, rushing river and the sheep peering at me from the floodplains. It was an easy and relatively flat route that wouldn’t feel like enough walking on a normal day, but by the time I reached The Highlander Inn in Craigellachie the ice had given my calves enough exercise that I was grateful for. Being able to stop for half a beer at the cozy bar.
Relating to: Highland retreat: Scotland’s tranquil, socially conscious hideaway
On my last day, I headed north, with my back to the now almost snowless hills; Many times during my travels I was determined to reach the beach that glittered so enticingly in the distance. I set off for Findhorn, a small seaside village of low, cramped houses, where I climbed over the dunes and then up the gravel to the pale sands that sparkled even in the fading half-light of the afternoon. Adjusting my hood to the constant stop-and-go rain, I stepped around the hook of the bow and took a seat next to the large window at the Captain’s Table, festooned with fairy lights. While I waited for my food, I watched a lone boat sailing across the bay, seagulls flying low and clouds constantly shifting in their dance between rain and sun.
“People don’t realize how much there is to do here, so they keep coming back,” Steph told me that morning. This was true of my journey as well: every road I took meant passing countless paths with signs pointing to a hike, a distillery, or a village I’d never heard of. When I finally dragged myself back to Inverness, I did so as the landscape around me slowly began to flatten, confident that it wouldn’t be long before I got back.
Transportation to Scotland was provided as follows: Caledonian Sleeper. Accommodation provided by The Dowans hotel (B&B doubles from £234 per night). For more information. Visit Moray Speyside