Scapa 12yo Distillery Exclusive
5/6/2009 Official Release | 48.2% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good stuff.
TL;DR
A springtime dram if ever there was one
On almost every Scottish island, a distillery resides.
Not only are new distilleries cropping up here, there and everywhere on the Scottish mainland, but more and more are being established on islands too, which is a bit risky —you’d think — given how remote and distant from most logistics, supply, and tourism networks they are.
It’s certainly not the first place I’d think of, if I ever were to think of starting a distillery. Islands are formidable places by default, owing to weather, tides, isolation. But even places like the Isles of Barra and North Uist are in the early stages of converting — or enhancing — their gin production to include whisky.
Island distilleries are not a new thing. The oldest producing distillery in Scotland, after Glenturret, is the Isle of Islay’s premiumised Bowmore, established in 1779. Most Scottish islands now have a distillery producing, or about to produce, the Uisge Beatha, from Islay to its nearest compatriot Jura, hopping over the Kintyre Peninsula to Arran, up the western Hebridean coastline via the Isles of Mull and Skye, Lewis and Harris. These are beautiful, evocative places filled with stoic islanders immovably anchored to their place and their people.
Almost 20 years after clear distilled barley spirit began flowing through the four Bowmore stills, the Isle of Orkney saw its own distillery rise from the treeless landscape. Highland Park Distillery heavy on the Norse mythology in their bottle design, marketing, and language: “Viking Honour”, “Viking Heart” and “Viking Pride” are amongst some of their age stated bottling taglines. It’s a really attractive angle too, when thinking about the fractious history of the Orcadian people that flows through this distillery and into the spirit of the gods.
I’ve not sampled many Highland Park expressions — certainly very few OF their own releases. I tried their 10-Year-old “Viking Scars” whilst sailing in June, and it was a decent, if a little forgettable whisky (40% always feels a bit underpowered regardless of the spirit character). There’s a lot of opinion floating about on what the best OB HP is, and the general consensus amongst the folk I orbit around is that the Cask Strength expression wins the day, Batch 2 being all the better, allegedly. I’ve been greatly enjoying the bottling of Highland Park that I picked up at the end of the sailing trip when we berthed in Campbeltown for a few days. Our time at the Warehouse Tasting Tour from Cadenhead’s was one of the highlights, and from this cask tour I bought two bottles: a Ben Nevis finished in a Manzanilla sherry cask and a Highland Park. Although, it’s not called Highland Park, but rather “An Orkney”, because in Scotch whisky there’s a very strange brand protection quirk that sees some distillery owners forbid independent bottlers from using the name of their distillery on the bottlings. As a result, the I’s thinly veil what’s inside — in the hope that we whisky exciters can work it out. I rarely do.
“An Orkney”, though, is pretty easy. Our tour guide was very coy in telling us the name of the distillery but made it abundantly clear which one it wasn’t. It’s not that difficult a task given that the Isle of Orkney has only two producing whisky distilleries and only one offers casks to independent traders. An open secret, then. Daft, for want of a better term. Anyway, my fondness for the “An Orkney” bottling stems from the very interesting coastal sweetness that is delivered at cask strength: salty, rocky, a bit of a weird smell coming from some sun-dried seaweed…that sort of thing. I also have a wee sample of Whisky Sponge’s 1998 Highland Park 23 year old from Dallas, but given the £450 asking price for a bottle, I’ve been known to routinely pick it up, sniff the sample and then cap and stash it again — the right time to enjoy it will come, I’m sure of it.
Highland Park is a fairly big producer: 2.5million litres according to the Malt Whisky Yearbook 2023. This year they released some interesting bottlings: a 50 year old, a nice ceramic bottling of their 15 year old (“Viking Heart”), and their batch 3 Cask Strength. Indeed, with all this talk of Highland Park, it’s almost like there’s no other Orkney distillery, for very little is ever spoken of the other place. If one mentions Orkney whisky, the mind immediately turns to Highland Park — or, at least, my rudimentary brain does.
Review
Scapa 12yo, The Orcadian Distillery Exclusive
48.2% ABV
£75 at the distillery only
Scapa. I know of Scapa Flow, where many German ships were scuttled during WWI and where divers now flock to test their wreck skills, but not of Scapa Distillery. For all that Highland Park leverages the norse mythology, dark colour schemes, and smoky, battle-driven imagery, Scapa lean in the polar opposite direction: a wee silver sailboat is all we get. Scapa’s website alludes to some of the design choices on the bottle: misty fingers of dawn-blued land spitting out into the still water from either side which are reflected in the labelling layout too. It could be described as minimal, but it really has all you need. For all the densely latticed figure work in Highland Park’s branding, Scapa embrace the calming smoothness of a 4-knot breeze.
I thought, because I’m stupid, that “The Orcadian” was some sort of musical instrument. Like an accordion. It was only once I engaged first gear that I made the connection to Orkney and her people: underneath the nicely integrated Scapa branding (with wee silver sailboat making up the “A” in the middle) is “The Orcadian”.
Of the people, then? Well, it’s no large leap of logic to see that the reason distilleries are in these places — islands, remote highlands and other inhospitable landscapes — is in some part because of the impact on the local economy: the population find jobs, shops and hospitality welcome tourists, and the distillery produces products to export, with the profits circling back into the local economy.
In his fabulous book A Sense of Place, Dave Broom talks a bit about the locals around Ardnamurchan realising the impact it would have on them and their families when a new distillery was announced. The same would have been true for these remote locales back in the 18th century. In that sense, then, highlighting the islanders is a really nice move — it’s the people that make the whisky, not the stills.
Going by the sentiment online and in my small social sphere, Scapa whisky is, in general, a bit sub-par. The distillery has a 1.3 million litre capacity, slightly less than Highland Park, and the core range comprises two NAS whiskies called “Skiren” and “Glansa”, the former unpeated, and the latter featuring a peated cask finish. These two whiskies seem to be positioned at the mainline whisky-goer looking for uncomplicated and easy-to-drink spirits — both are presented at 40% ABV. But the bottle that I have in my hand isn’t of that ilk, for this is a Distillery Exclusive with an age statement of 12 years and, what’s more, a minimum age of distillate written on the bottle: 05/06/2009. It’s offered at 48.2% and stated to be non chill-filtered, but no mention is made of colouring at all. I assumed it was fiddled with, but looking at WhiskyBase, I see that the wee icon for ”uncoloured” whisky is present. This means, therefore, that this Scapa expression hits every whisky exciter tick box: 46%, natural colour and un-chill-filtered.
At first glance, it’s a bit weird that the stuff that gets whisky exciter motors purring is only available if you trek up to the distillery and get it, but then I realise that it’s probably the exact right thing to do: folk who don’t care that much get to buy the middle-of-the-road stuff online or at their local shop. The folk that really care will likely journey up there anyway, so why not have the more potent stuff in the distillery shop? But that also comes with the pitfall of excluding a lot of whisky exciters who can’t get to Orkney but might shout the most about your products.
I received this bottle for Christmas from my in-laws (the old man is trying really hard to enjoy whisky but can never seem to find one that sets him properly alight). He was visiting Orkney to liaise with the water-borne rescue services and discuss their searchlight situation — a really quite fascinating subject, once you start to discuss the complex requirements for searchlights atop lifeboats. Imagine a large Severn-class lifeboat surrounded by giant waves in the North Sea and trying to focus on something bobbing about in the water 50 yards away. The lights that the old man’s company provide sit on the roof of the cabin and can track these subjects, using GPS or other inputted guidance, in three-dimensional space, counteracting the heaving, yawing movement of the lifeboat, and keeping the subject illuminated so that their circumstance can transition from death to life.
Whilst the old man was there — in a fleeting moment of downtime — he nipped into the Scapa distillery shop and picked this to give to me. How bloody lovely! We opened it on the big day together and he seemed to really like it, especially when pitted against the Thompson Brother’s SRV5, which Santa brought me too. He saw quite easily the contrast of the smoked lemony icing sugar of the SRV5 versus this Scapa. I have to say, I was really enjoying it too, but by then I’d had quite a few drams and several more helpings of boozy Christmas pudding.
Over the course of the following days, I spent a bit of time going to this whisky, trying it against others to pick out what I could of the Scapa character. Turns out it’s quite the tasty whisky!
Nose
In-bloom purple heather by the sea. A lick of Scotch broom or yellow gorse sprouting from a salty wet rock. Earthy notes — dusty warehouse, not damp soil. Sweet peppery wood. Coffee and walnut cake. Really nice spring florals: white, pink and purple, maybe a little yellow in there too, with a peppery herb undertow. A brief sniff of sweet pipe smoke from way down the rocky beach. Deep heat inside a freshly laundered stretchy bandage. Green orchard fruits.
Palate
Purple. Blueberry foam sweeties, if that’s a thing. Flat coca cola. Nicely balanced spice, heat, and sweetness, but fades out quickly. A toasting timber, maybe oak, maybe cedar. Sandy sandwich with the smell of suncream. The florals come through on the palate too — purples, pinks and whites. Fresh linen and the merest hint of smoke. Salty savoury toffee.
The Dregs
This is a whisky that neatly slots into my current whisky phase. Purple fruits abound. Coastal salinity ahoy. Yellow gorse on a rocky outcrop with a strangely pungent seaweed note laced through it — yes please. It’s a really enjoyable whisky but more than that, it’s very easy to access. At moments, it’s clear and fresh, green and white, like a spring walk. Yes, that’s maybe a great way to see this, as a spring dram; it feels like a renewal of sorts as we head into the new year. When the prospect of Highland Park darkness looms large, it might be nice to go the other way: lightness of spirit, freshness of presentation, light where there is mostly dark.
Scapa branding definitely looks bright and new: the marine palette and fresh white labels, fairisle patterns and handwritten details. It’s quite a stark counterpoint to the other Orkney staple, and I appreciate it all the more as a result. Coastal influences in whisky is something I’m coming to really enjoy. I love spending time on the water with my uncle — there’s nothing quite as soul-quenching as being propelled over the watery depths by just the wind — and one of my biggest draws for inspiration in my work is lighthouses and the call of the sea. Scapa distillery is literally a stone’s throw away from the water’s edge, so the coastal influence definitely feels legit, and my subconscious as a result is naturally gravitating towards it.
Isn’t whisky just the best medium for eliciting romantic visions? In times gone by, the journey from Orkney to my place here in the heart of Kinross-shire might have taken week there and back, trudging through the hail and wind, surrounded by the oftentimes desolate north-eastern highlands. What a trip it would've been, all the way up there to all the way down here: it’s a wonderfully romantic image, especially when viewed through the amber prism of whisky, the most social of spirits.
In reality, it took only a matter of hours for my father-in-law to fly there and back. Oh, how the modern way of living crushes any semblance of romance; convenience is paramount in our day and age. Well, maybe it’s good then that this 12-year-old, higher potency expression of matured Scapa distillate is only available to those who do make the effort to go there and, in their own way, create that journey for themselves. I lived the story of my bottle vicariously through chatting to the old man about his time there and what he was up to with his life-saving lighting, and in a way assembled a loose picture of Orkney, the distillery, the people, and the connection to the sea as a result.
I’m not sure of the price, for this was a gift. I don’t really want to find out and assign monetary value to it either, because it’s more than that for me: this Scapa 12yo now has a memory anchored to it that transcends a financial assignment of worth. I think it’s a really great whisky that offers a delicate balance of the coastal and the floral, the herbal and the earthy, and I’ll drink it thinking of the old man’s trip to Orkney and the lifeboats, coastguards, and lifesavers he met. I would guess this might be found dancing around the £55–65 mark, given its age and ABV. If it’s commanding over £70, the value prospect might drop significantly, knowing that there’s drams out there for £70 that have given me more to think about and more to dissect, and I guess more enjoyment as a result. Those whiskies didn’t always come with a story, though.
This is a really good whisky worthy of your time, especially if you’re into the salty, coastal, purple angle. Worth journeying to Orkney to purchase? That’s entirely dependent on if you’re a person of romance or of convenience. I’ll be making the journey for sure, when I have a spare minute, if only to investigate further the fascinating history of The Orcadians.
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC
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