Glenwyvis Madeira
Little Brown Dog 5yo Single Cask | 56.5% ABV
Walking the Walk.
We sat on the weathered bench with the sun on our faces, and drank it all in.
Tourists bleating their disorientation. The harbour below with its thrum of gurgling diesel engines and the easterly ocean breeze, mingling with the fish and chip shop’s fryers kicking in to supply the gathered hordes with its salty wares. A fleeting sniff of sugary decadence from the ice-cream shop, now open for the summer season. It’s the definitive coastal ambience.
And we sat. Nothing spoken, no silence filled, no comment offered. Just a shared moment in a small village on an island at the edge of the world. And I knew then that this person, sitting beside me now, will be a pal for life.
Sabrina travelled from Belgium to walk the lands of the Misty Isle. The Quiraing, a monumentally beautiful geological rift that splits the Trotternish peninsula like a spine, was high on her list of trails to tackle. The first time you catch sight of the Quiraing, you have no choice but to stand in absolute shuddering awe at the jagged rock mass towering above you. Poet Alexander Smith, according to Wikipedia, called it a “nightmare of nature”, and you can see why - it’s as much intimidating as it is spellbinding.
Walking is Sabrina’s way of relinquishing the strains of being a teacher, something she loves doing, if a little less in recent years - bureaucracy and politics getting in the way of children and their education. Still, with the sun baking us from above, and a week of exploration of Trotternish ahead, Sabrina was content to soak it all in.
From the continent, through the Chunnel, around London and up to Glasgow, a long bus journey through Glencoe and finally, mercifully, arriving via luxe Citylink bus in the Sommerled Square of Portree. She disembarked with a rucksack the size of a fridge and a big warm smile on her face. We’ve been messaging our love of whisky to each other for what must be years now, letting the blame fall, for her Ardnamurchan FOMO, squarely on my shoulders.
For a while the Misty Isle has been calling her back. Here she is now, and here we are, joined through whisky and a shared love of storytelling.
I’m a sociable person, despite what some say, and meeting new people is one of my most treasured pastimes. People's history. It’s the easiest thing you can do to feel connected to the world, having a chat about another person's history; what was the path that led to us talking now? I could spend hours chatting to people about their history and, as my knees smouldered in the sun, we did just that.
Sabrina routed around in her fridgebag to recover a paper-wrapped object that, upon unfurling, was revealed to be a bottle of whisky. A Little Brown Dog bottle of whisky that she spent a long while picking in Glasgow’s Good Spirits Company, because she wanted it to be surprising, new and exciting for the recipient. She handed it to me as a gift.
For why, I asked? Because of the words that I’ve written, she said, and immediately my bottom lip started quivering. A bad week at work and things not going the way I’d hoped had set me into a bit of a self-doubting dirge. Sabrina arrested my downward spiral with her astonishing generosity.
I felt a bit sheepish because, assuming that me arriving with litres of whisky for her to carry in her fridgepack as she walked the mountainous landscapes of Skye wouldn’t be appreciated, I’d brought just two little samples for her to try, for when the tent was up and food was in her belly. She gave me a telling off for bringing her any samples at all.
Many hours later we realised the time and, with regret, I had to give my excuses - a small furry bullet was launching her way around our house and a bigger, less hairy bullet was being dragged behind. The big red bazooka that keeps us all in check would be wondering if she should call 999 for missing persons. I wasn’t missing. I was trying out Sabrina’s ultra-light and ultra-comfortable camping chair, and finding ways to justify buying one despite not camping anywhere.
Sabrina’s campsite for the evening enjoyed a dazzling view of the full Cuillin range from the elevated position over Portree, and when I left her in the late afternoon sunshine, Sabrina waved me off warmly and later sent me pictures of her setup with that view of the Cuillins positioned so that she could see it from her tent. A consummate professional.
Over the course of her week here, she travelled around the island, sampling the myriad experiences on offer - cuisine and nature, whisky and people, cursed the rain, watched a stunning sunset over the Outer Hebrides and got stuck at Dunvegan on account of there being no buses on a Sunday. Salt of the earth. A people person. A connected person, at one with the earth and letting herself be awed by the beauty of nature that unfolds before her every step.
Yet I sit here, in the 5 sq/ft of space I’m allocated in my own house, and lower my fingers to a slab of plastic squares, making letters appear on a digital screen. I do very little, yet I’ve been rewarded so undeservingly plentifully for it. In whisky aye, but more than any whisky that will ever pass these rubbery lips, I’ve been rewarded in something far more valuable to me: friendship.
The people who have connected all over the world, as a result of the Aqvavitae Barflies community and through our shared love of whisky, of sharing whisky, but most of all, of sharing time, know how valuable this space is. Whisky is infinite - there will always be whisky. Time is not. Which is why spending an afternoon with Sabrina on a sunny Sunday was so valuable to me.
Review
Glenwyvis 5yo, Little Brown Dog, single cask, full maturation in Madeira, 56.5% ABV
£72 - available at time of writing.
Friendship was at the basis of this distillery when it was established in 2015. Land gifted to the distillery, for £1 per year for the next 175 years, isn’t something that’s done in the spirit of profit. No, it would be fair to say that the foundations of Glenwyvis, much like many new distilleries that are popping up over the motherland, begin in the spirit of friendship and togetherness. A shared pursuit of something exciting and new.
More recently Glenwyvis has been in the news because that spirit of friendship has imploded, and with the fraying edges of a relationship on the downward slope of reconciliation, so too does the Glenwyvis name get muddied.
I’ve never really been active in Glenwyvis whisky because, after many bottles of inaugural whiskies, the character of bright tropical fruits and vanilla is not something I’m chasing at the moment. I’ve not tried any Glenwyvis, if I’m completely honest, so this Little Brown Dog, matured in a Madeira cask, is something I’m really keen to get into. The Madeira cask is something I’ve had little experience of as well, so a double dunter, if nothing else.
Nose
Honey flapjack with candied oranges and cloves. New make and clean farmy sweetness. Tinned apricots. Melon salad. A summer dram holey moley. Juicy bamstick. A lovely floral perfume - not sure what because my fingers are as green as a baguette.
Palate
Orange peel and new make farms. Oaty. Orange creams. Poached pears with toffee lashings. Coffee beans. There’s a sour note, grapefruit, that weaves around the sweetness at the start. It does fade. Apricots and runny honey. Delicious juice.
Finish - honey nut hoops
The Dregs
So this is young - 5yo and very much feels it, despite the Madeira influence. An underpinning of that farmy, bright, fresh, zingy new-make character lines this dram, but I love those notes so it’s right up my street. I checked the LBD website and I’m delighted to see that both the apricot is there, and the coffee beans on the palate are there too. I’m not as woeful at this sniffing and swirling thing as I think.
This feels like a dram that you can easily swish away on a warm, sun-soaked summer’s day. I don’t think I’ll get to find out because, in the shoulder Spring season the sun has already been out loads on the Misty Isle, and I’ve rinsed almost all of the bottle already.
I’ve loved drinking this whisky outside - the farmy notes increase ten-fold with the open air, and it’s just so damned drinkable. 56.5% isn’t to be sniffed at, yet here it’s just a wonderfully flavourful experience with little to no “spice” or heat. It’s all rose-gold warmth and joy.
How do I feel about this in relation to all the other whiskies in my stuttering mind? Well, it’s difficult because, with each dram I pour I think of Sabrina, and that makes me smile. Each sip reminds me of the sunshine that cascaded down upon us, that afternoon in Portree. It reminds me of Sabrina talking to Mini Crystal with that undeniable kindness of a person well versed in talking to children; so much warmth in each word spoken, and Mini Crystal talks still about that day we met Sabrina.
The whisky? It’s very good. It’s a 7/10 but I’m keen to give it a 10 just so that I can let Sabrina know how much this whisky has meant to me. The knowledge that she spent time and effort picking it because she wanted me to have an experience. I decanted some for her to sip along with me and gave her it to take home, one of the few people out there thinks enough about my waffle to warrant a whisky shared… the love I have is more than I can convey here right now. But she’ll understand and appreciate that my job is to provide perspective. Very good is the call, and very good this whisky is.
This bottle of Glenwyvis that she so generously gifted me will disappear soon, and so too will many more that we choose to share in pursuit of transcendence.
My memories of the laughs we had and the stories we shared will remain forever more. Thank you, Sabrina, for your energy, your spirit and your friendship. You’ve made this ageing hack eternally grateful that you are my pal, and that you are here in the world, spreading your positivity and dry wit. Keep going. Keep doing what you do, and keep your chin up - you are too good not to. I’ll see you again, very soon.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC