Our first jaunt over to the Isle of Lewis in 2008 started in
Ullapool, and a wait for the ferry which would take us across to
Stornoway. A pint being in order, we popped into a pub on Shore Street
not far from from the ferry terminal. A small group of young men were
at a table by the window with quite a few empty glasses in front of
them, and one of them had shifted over in order to give us a seat, a
gesture I hadn't noticed as I was on my way up to the bar to order.
Thinking I had ignored him on purpose, when I returned with our ales
he began a slightly inebriated tirade about the virtue of being nice.
To no avail could I persuade Roddy that it had not been a slight but
an honest oversight on my part. The foundation of his (rant) was that
"it costs nothing to be nice". He's absolutely right, of course. I
shouted him a pint, but I'm pretty sure he never fully believed my
innocence.
The B&B which dad had booked us into was called
Suainaval, up
the hill from the extraordinary expanse of tidal beach called Tràigh
Uuige (Uig Sands). As luck would have it, we were told that a
distillery called
Abhainn Dearg
was in the works just down the road. Off we toddled to have a look.
Although there was nobody around to field any questions, I did my due
diligence, poking around with my camera and being quite nosey.
We (I) have been back several times since, and although a few things
have intervened (Covid, and other insurmountables) I plan to return
again sometime in the future. It's such a wonderful story of a place
and a dream, really, how could I not.
Abhainn Dearg 2008 - peeking through the window into the beginning of a
warehouse
2011 - the warehouse fills
2012 - the dreamer, Marko Tayburn
2014- the dream grows
Slàinte
