On the storm-lashed Hebridean island of Islay on Scotland’s wild west coast, a new hotel has opened within reach of one of the world's great whisky distilleries. John Hannan raises a dram to its arrival.
“Today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky,” our driver says, nodding up at the low, dark clouds amassing over the fields ahead. We are somewhere between Port Ellen and Ardbeg, moving along the south coast of Islay in February weather, with horizontal rain, a biting wind and a sky the colour of cold pewter. Sheep press against stone walls, their wool heavy with rain, and the ground is dark and saturated. When I crack the window, the island comes in all at once: smoke, salt, wet earth and, beneath it all, the peat.
I had been in love with Islay long before I ever set foot on the Hebridean island. For anyone drawn to peated whisky, it holds a special place in drinks lore. I first came to know it through a glass of Ardbeg 10 Year Old, as so many do, in drams that seemed to conjure the island itself – smoky peat from the ancient earth, salt from the wild Atlantic winds and the soft water that runs from the lochs above the distillery. Even before seeing Islay for myself, I had long understood that this was whisky shaped by more than cask and still alone.
The road from Port Ellen towards Ardbeg cuts through open fields and low rises of land, the colour shifting between deep green and peat brown. At the entrance to more than one cottage, stones of white quartz are stacked on gateposts. “It wards off the evil spirits,” our driver says, noticing my curious gaze. Whether believed or merely maintained as decorative fixtures, it’s a reminder that superstitions and myths from a more ancient time are still very much alive in these parts of the world.
Ardbeg has stood on the island’s south coast since 1815, but its history has not always been a smooth one. The distillery closed for long stretches in the late 20th century, and at more than one point stood in genuine danger of slipping into the archive of lost whisky distilleries, before being revived by Glenmorangie in 1997. The Ardbeg Committee – its global network of devotees, now more than 200,000 strong – was founded in January 2000 to ensure, as the mission goes, that “the doors of Ardbeg never close again”. The cult it commands today is well earned. Today, a dram of Ardbeg is often known for its peaty smoke, but also a brightness and precision that keep the whisky from becoming blunt. Visiting the distillery on Islay, it’s clear that peat is only one part of a more layered story.
For those making the journey to Islay, whether by small plane or by ferry from the mainland, the distillery has now added a compelling reason to stay longer with the arrival of Ardbeg House. Set in the former Islay Hotel in Port Ellen and reimagined by Russell Sage Studio as a 12-room retreat – with each room uniquely decorated – it was created with more than 20 Scottish and Islay artisans. Timber, metal, glass and fabric all carry references to the island and the distillery’s mythology, including pieces formed from decommissioned copper stills.
While staying at the hotel, I find myself in the Rebel Room – a dark, detailed and deliberately characterful haven, full of bold personality. There’s bespoke wallpaper inspired by the crashing waves of the Islay waters, a portrait of local artist Sean O’Leary, who frequented the bar, and a hand-painted headboard of a 12th-century rebellion that adorns the lavishly decorated bed. Views from the bedroom cast out over the bay beg to be observed with a glass of Ardbeg 10 Year Old, which I do more than a few times during my time here. There’s a true sense of play at the hotel, too. Hidden within each room are drams designed for guests to enjoy. It doesn’t take long before I sniff out mine, concealed in an antique hallway water dispenser mounted on the wall.
Downstairs, the Islay Bar and restaurant, revived within the hotel as a homage to its long-closed predecessor once beloved by the local community, is cocooning. Green marble, amber light, metal fireplaces and repurposed seats from tractors come together in a palette that runs from dark to darker. At 18.15 each evening, in a nod to the distillery’s founding year, guests are poured a dram of Badger Juice, the small-batch house whisky blend created exclusively for Ardbeg House. On my visit, the conversation between guests turns to who can best guess the blend. Judging by the enthusiasm, it’s clear everyone here is an Ardbeggian.
Dinner deepens the case for staying. The kitchen draws on the island and its surrounding waters: hand-dived scallops with citrus, cream and caviar; a venison pie rich and deeply comforting against a wintry Islay evening; and sticky date pudding paired with a glass of Ardbeg Eureka, with chocolate malt and Pedro Ximénez notes that sit in effortless accord with the dessert. The cooking reflects the produce without overworking it. Breakfast the next morning is no afterthought either. There are local Port Charlotte eggs with rich, golden yolky centres like dragon’s eyes, then a full Scottish spread with haggis and black pudding; its richness making complete sense in a place like this, with rain and wind pelting the window and peat never far from mind.
The distillery sits only minutes away, and a tour is included as part of the stay. I take mine with Bryony McNiven, Ardbeg’s distillery manager, who grew up on Islay. As the daughter of a stillman who worked here for 35 years, distilling runs in her blood. Studying chemistry in Glasgow before returning to her island home, she has the rare ability to make the technical feel vivid without sanding off its complexity.
In the mash house, beside the old Robert Boby mill installed in 1921 and still in use, she traces the distillery’s water back through the landscape: from Loch Uigeadail, meaning ‘dark and mysterious place’ in Gaelic, down through the smaller Loch Airigh Nam Beist and on to Charlie’s Dam just behind the farmhouse before it enters production. Fermentation follows in 12 wooden washbacks of Oregon pine, a deliberate choice over stainless steel, since wood harbours the bacteria that react with alcohol to produce esters: those fruity, floral compounds that give Ardbeg its characteristic brightness. The smokiness is the distillery’s reputation; the sweetness is its secret.
The stillhouse is where that paradox becomes most legible. The new stillhouse, completed in 2021, houses four stills – exact replicas of the original pair now retired – and Ardbeg is the only distillery on Islay to use a purifier: a device fitted to the spirit stills that catches heavier vapours from the lyne arm and returns them to the pot for redistillation, breaking them down into lighter, sweeter compounds. Combined with a five-hour spirit run and manually operated cut points, this is what Bryony calls Ardbeg’s “peaty paradox”: the way the distillery builds not only smoke but fruit and sweetness into the spirit, so that the peat is never all you taste.
The tasting that follows brings those elements into focus, one dram at a time. The 25 Year Old is composed and precise: smoked vanilla, soft orchard fruit, fine old oak; the peat present but delicately integrated thanks to time in bourbon barrels. Homecoming, the distillery-exclusive bottling, takes a different direction entirely, with rum cask finishing lending smoked tropical fruit and a dry demerara richness. But the whisky I keep returning to is Seann Chreag, a name that means ‘ancient rock’ in Gaelic and is available only at the visitor centre and in select duty-free shops. As a 21-year-old whisky matured in bourbon barrels and Oloroso sherry casks, it carries dried fruit, toffee, treacle, chocolate and a warmer, slower peat. Where the 25 Year Old is a whisky to admire, Seann Chreag is one you want to sit with by an open fire and a gripping book.
Islay is one of those places that ruins you for ordinary travel. The island has 10 distilleries, a population of just over 3,000, and a hold on the whisky world entirely disproportionate to its size. I came for Ardbeg, but what stays with me is how everything connects together, from rain falling into peat, water moving through the lochs, smoke carried on Atlantic air, a dram poured in the bar at a quarter past six. It becomes difficult to separate one from the other. Once you have experienced whisky here, it is very hard to think of it any other way. It is harder still not to imagine returning – perhaps over another dram.
Ardbeg House
18 Charlotte Street, Port Ellen
Isle of Islay, Scotland
ardbeghouse.com
Loganair operates daily flights from Glasgow to Islay Airport in around 45 minutes. Alternatively, Caledonian MacBrayne runs ferry services from Kennacraig on the Kintyre Peninsula to Islay, taking just over two hours. Ardbeg Distillery is a short 10-minute drive from Ardbeg House.
This writer travelled as a guest of Ardbeg.
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