Opening Dinner & Festival Saturday

With a mixture of trepidation and excitement I waved goodbye on Friday morning to the Crystal ladies and set sail on my journey to the lowlands. Passing the snow capped Black Cuillins set against cobalt sky, I had a pang of fear wash over me that I’d never see this view again. Then I realised that I’d be coming back soon enough, because I live here now. Re-energised with that realisation I charged onwards, down through a captivating Glen Shiel in full spring splendour, around to Loch Laggan and turned off towards Dalwhinnie.

Needing a pee by this point, and with the lack of public relief stations in this neck of the woods, stopped at the side of the road on General Wade’s Military Road. No sooner had mini Crystal been produced did a Eurofighter Typhoon rip the sky in half overhead, banked on wing showing the full delta silhouette. Expletives screamed into soiled slacks, I got myself together and back into the car, only to then shit myself as another Eurofighter followed overhead, unseen but most definitely felt.

As I joined the A9 down to Perth I watched in amazement as the two jet fighters appeared and disappeared in triangular form, threading their way in playful nap-of-the-earth pursuit, deep in the valley of Sgairneach Mhor. I know now what it must feel like to be face to face with a death machine because, at one prickly point I was; directly above the A9 itself. It’s no wonder there’s so many accidents on the A9 if this sort of distraction is occurring.

The weather was glorious all the way to Perth, when it clouded over. Not to worry. So long as it doesn’t rain at the evening’s event, the Opening Dinner of the Fife Whisky Festival, we’ll be alright. I would be attending this incredibly popular sold-out shindig not as a punter, but as the Official Photographer for the Fife Whisky Festival 2024, hence the mixture of trepidation and excitement. Having attended last year’s event and snapped away carefree, I was asked afterwards if I’d be interested in covering this year’s event with a more serious approach. Of course I accepted immediately. As the evening approached the self-confidence waned, but I’m not one to back out of a commitment so tried to settle my nerves through the expressive medium of modern dance.

I had a good chance to rest after the journey down before I was off to Lindores Abbey Distillery, home to the Opening Dinner celebration, and a stone’s throw from my digs in nearby Glenfarg. As the sun set over the banks of the River Tay, my taxi driver for the outward leg told me that the reed bed in the river is the largest in the whole of Europe. Dad has lots of little facts like this stored up ready to fire at any given moment. After dodging some excessive traffic through quaint Newburgh the distillery appeared in view, illuminated and majestic, ready to accept the 80-odd excited bods in an hour or so.

Opening Dinner - Friday

I’ve never photographed anything “professionally” before and certainly not something of this scale or so public, so I did what most other people do in my situation and spent a good 20 minutes sweating out the fear of how I managed to get myself into this position in the first place; being generally inept and stupid, I was sure to disappoint with my shitty little photographs. But then reality kicked in of what I had to do, and the fear of disappointing Justine and Karen injected some much needed adrenaline into my veins. The cameras were affixed to my body and I’m off, scouting the place out, finding the angles of note and making sure I introduce myself to as many people as possible, including Lindores UK Sales Manager and Brand Ambassador Murray Stevenson, and one half of Fife Whisky Festival duo / Angels’ Share Glass Co, Karen Somerville-Young.

The bus arrived from St. Andrews with the other half of Fife Whisky Festival, Justine Hazlehurst / Kask Whisky aboard, shepherding the punters into the distillery and, before I know what was happening, the camera in my hand is red-hot and my legs are complaining from doing squats every couple of metres. Lindores Abbey Distillery is a really nice place to be and I had free-roam around the distillery and visitor centre, watching people happy to be there and sneaking some drams as I went. Dinner time was called and a piper fired up his droning ceol mor to lead the hungry mob into the cloisters, where an unbelievably long oak table set with incredible neatness and artefact decorated interest awaited.

It’s a bit of a blur after that, with dinner arriving, speakers speaking and toasts toasting. We were served some lovely food paired with drams of delight; the welcome dram was of course the Lindores Abbey MCDXCIV and I was reminded of how nice it is as an easy sipper. The first dram paired with a roundel of camembert is a beauty - an exclusive cask of 5yo Lindores in a Ruby Port Barrique. Murray delivers a fine speech and we tuck in to our discs of goo with an oddly shaped stick of bread. Then we’re on to our main course with a Lochlea “Our Barley” pairing and it’s an easy sipper too, but against the Ruby Port magic it feels a little bit of a dip. The speech by Production Supervisor for Lochlea Darren McCormick is good - the microphone setup and volume woes make it a bit hard to hear his dulcet tones and he looks nervous - I would be too, speaking in front of so many people.

Across from me is a chap called Andrew. Over the incredibly loud din from 100 people shouting their whiskied heads off, we chat drams - Craigellachie 17 is his whisky de jour which, apparently, can be snaffled at airports for £80-90! I’m surprised and excited - I’m flying to Heathrow in but a weeks time. We chat about Bruichladdich 18 and the newly released Port Charlotte at £175. We discuss the Ruby Port dram and the Lochlea, as well as my weird looking hunk of beef (which was actually bloody tasty).

The Guest Speaker stands, Dr. Nick Morgan, who delivers a really lovely speech about the beauty of Scotch whisky and jests about Scotch having origins in Ireland, and we should be thankful to the Irish for our good fortune. I didn’t manage to take it all in because, of all the things I would capture that night, this section was one of the most important for me not to fluff, so I was concentrating on that and not his words, sorry Dr. Nick. Dessert arrived promptly after the cheer subsided and was paired with a Spey whisky and a speech by Speyside Distillers Commercial Manager Andrew Ferguson - again I lost note of what the dram was, but given it wasn’t peated I reckon it was either the Trutina, Tenne or the Chairman’s Choice. Andrew was an easy, confident commander of cloisters.

The final dram, served with toffee popcorn in big bowls that looked like mini canoes, was a special cask of Lindores extracted for this event only, and was matured in a Rivesaltes wine cask…I think, accompanied by a speech from Elliot Wynn-Higgins, Lindores’ Cask Custodian and Export Manager. He’s a natural orator and has the congregation laughing within a few beats. The bus arrives before anyone is willing to leave, taking folk back to Cupar for travel connections. I’m taxied back to my digs by Karen’s husband, Emmet* - the nicest man I think I’ve ever met and, I’d soon witness, one of the hardest grafting on the Fife Whisky crew of volunteers. Back home and relieved to not have tripped or slipped or shat myself in public, I had a wee chat with the Crystal seniors before heading to bed - a long day in the saddle with more yet to come.

Fife Whisky Festival - Saturday Session 1

The morning of the festival I awoke with a start. A rubbish sleep was had; over-tired and over-stimulated, I’d lain awake all night worrying about the coming festival and if I’d captured any good photos from the dinner, then fell asleep sometime around 3am. Not to worry, a big ol’ breakfast was had, the files were backed up from the Opening Dinner and the cameras were packed ready to go. My taxi arrived at 11:30am and off we went to Cupar, ready to capture the energy, spirit and excitement of a whisky festival from a unique observational perspective.

Justine and Karen were at full tilt by the time I sidled into the Cupar Corn Exchange, but I’m greeted with nerve-settling warmth and kindness. I get myself set up and ready to go, with time to spare enough that I can wander around and get a grasp of where everyone is, what’s on offer and who people are. Karen’s husband Emmet is already buzzing about but sings a friendly hello each time he passes me all day long. It’s really fascinating and educational to see an event like this from a staff perspective. I was able to slink about and observe how the festival goers moved around the space, and how they were interacting with the exhibitors and staff.

The respect was very high and reassuring: everyone was there to have a great time, discover new whisky and share the experience with their pals and acquaintances. For last year’s festival and this year’s again, the downstairs room was screened off upon entry to try and avoid the rush to the shop, for those interested only in festival exclusives. A few disgruntled punters sounded off about this inconvenience to anyone who would listen, but soon tramped their way up to the first floor hall to get their session started, when their cries were met with calm reassurance - the shop isn’t going anywhere.

Looking through the lens at everyone having a great time, both exhibitors and attendees, was an incredibly positive experience - I spent my time watching, and capturing, happy smiling people experiencing the thrill of whisky. Pals hugging, laughing and excitedly regaling each other of this whisky or that distillery. Throughout the four hours of Session 1, I was able to spend a lot of time hiding in plain sight, snapping moments of joy and wonder. Now and again I’d be asked to take a group shot or bump into someone I knew and, where possible, ask how their festival was going, what their dram of the day was and how they placed this event in the year of whisky events.

The overall consensus of opinion that I heard from overtly asking, and passively listening, was that the Fife Whisky Festival is the best festival of all. An atmosphere of chilled, spacious engagement was the biggest reason I was able to decipher, and the ability to properly chat to exhibitors, pals and staff without elbowing the static loiterers out of the way. From the exhibitor side, a busier festival means that a lot of the exhibitors take on the role of a pouring machine for 8 hours straight, with very little interaction with the punters. I can’t imagine how tiring it must be to have glass after glass thrust at you for filling. At Fife, there’s time and space for engagement, and that’s what gets the brand ambassadors and spokespeople for distilleries excited - a chance at spreading word of their wares and explaining why these whiskies exist.

A really fun four hours for me, and watching the team graft like worker bees as Queens Justine and Karen kept the buzzing hive flowing, was so impressive. How everyone is able to keep the high energy and excitement up for three days of events like this is beyond me - I was kaput after those four hours of wandering and holding a hunk of metal and glass up to my face. Luckily there was an hour’s grace between the sessions for everyone to refuel and take some weight off, before the next session began. Of course, being the irritant that I am found a wee seat beside big Carl Crafts and Antonia Bruce of Adelphi/Ardnamurchan, to shoot the breeze for a few minutes before Carl had to nip out to find an electric charger for his car, so that he could get home again later that evening. Fudge donut squared away in the facehole, it was time to get my drams on.

Fife Whisky Festival - Saturday Session 2

A strange feeling washed over me as I leaned against a wall watching the setup for Session 2, camera-less and brand new glass rolling in hand, waiting for the doors to open. Contentment? Maybe relief that I’d once again managed to not embarrass myself. And probably a bit of pride that I knew I’d done a good job of capturing all the exhibitors and loads of smiling faces. I peeked out the front door and saw the TAIBS boys at the front of the queue. I knew the Glasgow Whisky Club were inbound and really hoped to see Robert / Quasidramly, having missed seeing him at Session 1; just standing next to him supercharges your hope-o-meter.

I took the chance when the fresh-faced punters were all being directed upstairs, to have a wander around to introduce myself to Seb Bunford-Jones, Global Marketing Manager for Glasgow Distillery. He’d sent the Dramface team a few bottles, of which I took the Cognac Small Batch expression to review; before I departed the Island for the lowlands I bought one of their newly released Manzanilla bottles to compare it against. This was my chance to see if it was a good buy, so asked for a wee pour as I posed him some questions.

By the time I’d finished chatting to Seb the doors were now fully open and, from a distance, saw the smiling face of Scott Munro amidst the crowd. I swear if you were having the most abjectly worst day of your life, seeing his face would make you feel like everything will be alright. Into the warm fuzzy Munro glow I stepped, and after a few minutes Seve appeared, bold and bright and ready for fun. Off we went, circling around the festival steeped in Seve and Scotty energy, dipping into this and that, and trying a “don’t tell no-body” Ledaig 29yo from Single Cask Co: it was so so.

Around to Cadenhead’s, exhibiting here for the first time, taking a wee swig of the Enigma 25yo Blend - “we don’t know what’s in it” is a statement I just can’t reconcile, unless the record keeping is so abysmal in Campbeltown that casks were picked at random with a blindfold…and Cadehnead’s are anything but abysmal. Anyway, it was a bit flat, so we tried the 6yo ‘An Orkney’ after, which set us back on course.

I lobbed for the gents but was caught half-way there by 1/7th of the TAIBS team, turning to see Stuart of Whisky Whims fame with a big yellow woolly Fife Whisky Festival bobble hat on - it was already at least 100°C in here! A lovely catch up, a quick toilet stop and then a whirl around to try find Scott and Seve, only to bump into another 2/7ths of the TAIBS team; Gaz from Kinnaird Head Whiskies and 8 Doors Distillery Manager and part-time lamppost Ryan Sutherland, two of the most humble blokes you could wish to know. I love seeing their faces - whisky’s finest. They were loitering around Lindores and I knew why, but I’ll come back to that.

Stomping upstairs for the millionth time that day I found the Glasgow twofer at Daftmill, with Seve prodding Francis’ pristine white shirt to get information from him, and Scotty asking if we’d met each other. I tried a single cask UK exclusive and then a sherry cask something or other whilst there - both really good and engaging drams. Then we tripped over to Fragrant Drops to pick their brains on what’s what. A couple of drams not really hitting for me - the Invergordon 30yo grain was a bit flat on the palate, their new blend following suit, but the 14yo Teaninich was really good. I forced Seve to try the sensational Ardmore 14yo Rum finish and he was happy that I did. Unfortunately no North British here today.

A tall athletic frame pops into view and it’s none other than oor own Drummond, with equally tall and athletic pal. We talk shop, we talk drams and we talk heroin patterns in eastern Europe, and how the Isle of Skye is the best route into the network. I see Gary of Gary’s Glencairn fame standing with Jonathan of the Drambling Rev fame, and we talk shop and drams - two incredibly lovely people. Doug of Kingsbarns Founder fame appears and we catch up after first meeting last year at the Kingsbarns Founders’ Opening Event - another lovely guy; supports Dramface fully and was miserable that Bruichladdich didn’t bring their divisive 18yo to the festival. So many faces, so many friends.

From there it was back down to see Lindores, because I’d been hearing a lot of people chatting about their single cask Ruby Port expression and wanted to try it again after last night’s dram - Seve and Scott were keen too. Sure enough, another pour and the legitimacy was confirmed - super whisky. Seve then uttered a special word to Murray and some drams were magically produced from under the table - an Australian oak thingy, a bottle with a label that was completely redacted with a marker pen, and a small 200ml sample bottle with the remnants of the final liquid from the Opening Dinner special cask - a Rivesaltes casked whisky that tasted like toffee popcorn.

Sure enough these three drams set everyone off in unison - astonishing liquid. It immediately thrust Lindores, a distillery I’ve tried a few times but not fully connected with, to become the frontrunner dram of the day. In fact, the top 3 drams of the day. Whodathunkit - Lindores and Glasgow as top billing in my favourites, with some incredible (on paper) drams like the Ledaig 29yo paling in comparison. Take the fact that the Ledaig was allegedly priced in the double-hundreds and suddenly the £69 Lindores single cask Ruby Port seems awfully good value for money. The £59 5yo Glasgow Manzanilla, the £50 6yo ‘An Orkney’ by Cadenhead’s and a £72 14yo Teaninich from Fragrant drops all sung sweetly versus the far more expensive drams we tried, and it left us with a single overarching sentiment - age is just a number.

It was almost final pour time, so quickly padded around to Ardnmurchan to see what Carl had in his pocket - a ‘The Glover’ melding of Ardnamurchan and Chichibu. Astonishing. Then the distillery exclusive bottling which made my heart grow by a factor of 10. You know how I feel about Ardnamurchan - today was just a wee reminder of its superiority in Dougie Crystal’s Chamber of Bleetlets. With a second pour of the exclusive blue bottle the final dram was called and we all began spooling down from another incredible festival.

This time around I didn’t spent the four hours bouncing from table to table, like last year. I spent most of my time in Session 2 chatting with Seve and let me tell you, it was time very well spent. I love that man so much, because his capacity for whisky excitement knows no bounds. He is the Godfather of whisky, and I’ll take to the pavement anyone who says otherwise. What a beautiful man, and I am so much richer for having the good fortune to have spent a few hours in his remarkable company. I hope one day to spend more time with him.

I didn’t buy anything from the shop, I didn’t take anything from the plethora of heels gathered on a big table in the staff quarters and I took no payment for my duties. I left without a trace, for this weekend wasn’t about taking, for me, it was about giving. I wanted to give Justine and Karen a fantastic photographic service, because they give so much to the whisky exciters. I wanted to selfishly give myself the opportunity to be behind the lens with intent - to try and capture the electric energy of a whisky festival through still photography. I don’t know if I managed it. I tell you what though, the universe speaks, we just have to listen.

On the way out Scotty mentioned that our gaffer had given him a bottle of whisky for me that was sitting in the bus. With regret he had to peel off just before the bus departed due to unwell wee people, and had passed on this bottle to Scotty, to give to me. I accepted the inflated translucent bag with intrigue, hugged everyone like it was the last thing I’d do, and headed back to pack up my gear and get ready for heading home. I looked through the bubble bag at the bottle from Roy: a 15yo Glen Garioch sherry cask, and I choked up, I’m not joking. Such unfathomable kindness, from everyone. I am a lucky boy.

Taxi for Crystal, back home to double buttery toast and tea, then off to bed to once again find no sleep waiting for me. Too much to process. What a weekend. What a beautiful community. What a fantastic festival. Justine and Karen, congratulations! I wish I could transmit the love I have for you both and what you do for us in this weird and wonderful whisky community. Bravo. Sláinte. Top 10. Top 5. Top 1. You deserve every accolade you will receive. Pure magic. Pure magic!

Fife Whisky Festival 2025 can’t come soon enough.

*So, a few days after I wrote this Karen got in touch to say that her hubby isn’t called Elliot, as I’d written here and called him all day long Friday and Saturday, but is called Emmet. He never once said, even when I boomed “HULLO ELLIOT” at his smiling face repeatedly. Just thought I’d balance all the goodwill, to show that in reality, I’m still an idiot.

DC