Two Islands
In Gaelic, the isle of Tiree is Tir an Eòrna, ‘the land of barley,’ but for 206 years there was no such thing as (legal) Tiree whisky. Until now. The return of whisky-making to the island is hopefully a long-delayed coda to a story which encapsulates the mismanagement of agricultural Improvements in the Hebrides which resulted in mass emigration, clearance and serial underinvestment.
In 1549, Dean Munro wrote that, “nae cuntrie may be mair fertile of corn,” and much of its landlord’s rent was paid in grain. In 1768, James Turnbull wrote that, ‘barley, small oats and grain [rye] are all the different kinds of grain that are sown here, the greatest quantity of which is barley.’
Tiree was was an exporter of cattle, salt beef … and whisky. There were 50 stills in operation in the 1750s and, though this had fallen to 30 by the end of the century, there was still between 200 and 300 gallons being shipped to the mainland each year. How did it go so wrong?
In 1770, Tiree was inherited by John Campbell, 5th Duke of Argyll. A keen Improver, he instigated ambitious plans for his new acquisition. All of these were textbook for the time: drainage to reclaim land, the introduction of new seeds, crop rotation, the end of the collective run-rig method of farming and the introduction of crofting, new villages, the development of weaving and fishing, and better communication to the mainland and the nearest island, Mull.
In 1785, he founded two distilleries while clamping down on ‘illicit’ production, despite it being an important way of paying rent. An edict was issued announcing that every tenth person discovered distilling be evicted. The islanders responded by shipping their barley to Donegal to be distilled there.
The Duke’s promised investments never materialised full, and in 1803 he pivoted away from agriculture to kelp harvesting. The seaweed had long been used as a fertiliser in the Western Isles, but its ash was also used in the production of soap and glass.
Though Spain was the main producer, the price of Scottish kelp ash rose steadily throughout the 18th century, from £2 per ton in 1760 to £6 per ton in the 1790’s. With supplies from Spain cut off during the Napoleonic Wars [1803-1815] the price rocketed to £18 to £22 per ton.
Landowners across the Hebrides leapt on this new source of income. With rents rising and crofts unable to provide for families, there was little option for tenants other than going to the kelping. (On Harris, productive farms on the west coast were cleared with tenants moved to the kelping grounds on island’s rocky east coast).
The boom peaked in 1810, and by 1820 it had collapsed. Tiree was now overpopulated, its soils were degraded, partly because all of the kelp had been burned and exported, not put on the fields. A further clampdown on illicit distilling cut off anther source of income, with barley taken as rental. In retaliation, the locals refused to work at the Duke’s stills which closed in 1818.
Crofters were now a burden, occupying land they couldn’t afford to pay the rent on. By 1846, following the Highland famine, forced emigration started.
Tiree is a classic ‘what if?’. The Duke’s original aims were sound, even if some of his methods weren’t. If he had held firm and carried through with his Improvements rather than the short-term fix of kelping, could Tiree have remained a whisky producer like Islay?
It took Alain Campbell and Ian Smith to show what was possible. Starting with Tyree gin, they began laying down whisky in 2019. Unpeated barley is mashed in an oak mashtun, and distilled in two direct fire Hoga alembics and aged in a mix of casks. Rye (a staple crop on Tiree in the past) is also being distilled.
Now, a sample of the single malt is sitting on my desk. Starting off in quarter casks from Heaven Hill and 50l fresh oak casks, it was then given two years in oloroso hoggies and bottled at 47.3%
The quarters and fresh casks have not only contributed to a glowing amber colour but have added an aroma of oiled leather which sits in top of nots of hazelnut butter, dried apricot, rhubarb, dried orange peel, and petrichor.
In the mouth I get more of the oils along with some cherry, and light chocolate. It’s as full blooded and coppery as you’d expect from direct-fired stills (at times it’s got hints of ‘old’ Tassy whiskies). All in all, an impressive start and a spirit that will prosper long-term.
The second island stop is considerably further north, in the Færoes which, unlike the Hebrides has no history of (licit) distilling, In fact, a ban on the production of alcohol stronger than 5.8 % was in place until 2014. Einar Waag, owner of Færoese brewery Föroya Bjór was first to take advantage of the change in regs in 2016, followed in 2019 by Fær Isles whose samples are also on the desk.
Founded by Daniál Hoydal, with help from consultant Gordon Steele, Fær Isles uses imported (Scottish) barley, but as Daniál says, ‘the aim is to create a whisky reflecting this place.’ The key, he feels, lies in maturation.
’Scotland has a stable year-round temperature, and high humidity, with the salty North Atlantic providing optimal conditions for maturation,’ he says. ‘Here, we have more of it all!’
To maximise this impact, the casks mature in ‘opnahjallur’, traditional wooden Færoese food-curing houses. Gaps between planks allow the often brisk salt-laden wind to blow through.
There’s none of this in the new make which is one of the most impressive I’ve come across recently. Neat, there’s rich, soft fruits (rasps, baked apple, peach cordial) with an almond note. It’s unctuous, slightly savoury, with good mid-palate juiciness while the finish mixes almond milk, and then anise/fennel.
With water, there’s a vegetal note with just a tiny hint of distillate sulphur which shows that there’s good weight and structure that will aid maturation.
Daniál also added a sample from a first-fill American oak cask that’s been sitting for 257 days in the warehouse. There’s a tiny smoky touch alongside nutty accents and that line of fruit seen in the new make.
The palate has pink wafer, some florals, jelly tot-like red fruits, and a silky feel. It becomes more fragrant and precise with water. There’s a lot going on here and great promise. It’s yet another piece in the increasingly impressive roster of Nordic malts.