Destinations

The view of the Islay coast from the shores of the Lagavulin Distillery. (Note: The view is much less blurry than I remember.)

The first thing that you should know about Islay is that it’s pronounced “Eye-La”. The second is that you should bring lots of money, and perhaps a second liver.

There is only one real reason to go Islay. Whisky.

Of course, those of you who are willing to travel halfway around the world because of alcohol-laced barley-water will likely argue that there is only one reason to live life itself. Whisky.

This was to be my pilgrimage. I was to visit the Mecca of single-malt Scotch. As a man of my faith, I was going to the Lagavulin distillery to pay my respects before I died.

Booking airfare was the simplest part of the trip. Before I left, I dialled up my favorite online web portal to see what they had for last-minute fares. $420 Cdn to Glasgow from Toronto. Round trip. Tax included. I left mid-afternoon, and arrived in Glasgow early the next morning.

The easy part was over.

Despite having a guidebook that was exclusively about Scotland, I could not find out how to get to Islay. Thankfully, there were some helpful people at the Glasgow city centre bus station who were willing to point me in the right direction, even after I loudly questioned why on earth a scone, after conversion, would cost $4. I believe I asked the poor woman behind the counter if it would give me super powers. I get a little goofy when I’m tired.

Turns out that if you want to go to Islay, you first need to go to Kennacraig. No sweat. That adds a mere three hours to your trip. Oh, and then you need to take the ferry to Islay. That’ll be another two hours. And then, and only then, will you find yourself in the bustling metropolis of Port Ellen.

The bustling metropolis of Port Ellen, Islay.

The nice part of going to a town where the downtown core consists of a single street is that you don’t have to go very far to find accommodation. Sure, you could book ahead. But where’s the fun in that? There’s an abundance of bed and breakfasts along the route, but if you’re looking for something a little more lively, I recommend the White Hart hotel. You can’t miss it. Big white building with the words “White Hart Hotel” written on the side.

For anyone who finds the directions 'look for the big building with White Hart Hotel written on the side' confusing, here is a picture of the White Hart Hotel

I tend to recall that prices were around 35 pounds for a night, but I could be wrong. After the amount of whisky I drank that week, I’m lucky that I can still remember my mother’s name. So don’t quote me on that.

The first thing you should do when you arrive is book tours of the respective whisky distilleries. Along one road you can find Ardbeg, Lagavulin, and Laphroig. There’s also Bruichladdich and a few others, depending on where you want to go. The hotel staff will be more than happy to make the arrangements for you. Most tours cost a few pounds, but you’ll be rewarded with more than your fair share of premium whisky in return.

If you’re looking for something more authentic than standard B&B or hotel fare, then you’re welcome to look into renting some of the local property. Halfway between Port Ellen and Lagavulin distillery, for instance, is Lagavulin Hall, which is available for rent on a weekly basis. It looks a lot like a church, and I have no clue what it looks like inside. But if you pay someone an undisclosed sum of money, you can stay there.

Next priority. Food. As a member of a technologically advanced society, as evidenced by your current use of the Internet, you may have certain expectations when it comes to restaurant service and hours of operation. You might, for instance, expect that you can acquire food after 8:30 pm.

In that assumption you would be deadly wrong, unless you count an epic dinner of cheese and onion crisps (potato chips) and M&Ms as “food”. If so, I seriously question why you are on an island renowned for its single malt whisky. I hear McDonalds runs a really sweet tour. They may even show you how to set the timer on the deep fryer.

So, yes. Food is a priority, and sleep can come later. The White Hart lays out a pretty good spread, but as with anything in the British Isles, plan for it to cost more than you expected it would. And then expect it to cost more than that. Then double that. Now, with a small loan, you’ll be able to afford the fish and chips.

Now, having safely arrived and with some semblance of food in your stomach, the time has come to get down to serious business and hit the pubs. That’s right. Both of them. The White Hart and the other one. You can’t miss it. It’s the one that everyone will go to once the White Hart closes down at 10:30 pm.

Port Ellen knows what it does best, I’ll give it that. I think I can safely say, without embellishment, that the hospitality there ranks among some of the finest that I’ve ever experienced. Not only does even the smallest of bars (ie. The White Hart) have one of the best selections of single malt Scotch I’ve ever seen, but the locals are incredibly friendly, particularly to tourists visiting in the off-season.

“Ha ha!” you say, familiar with travelling in Europe, “You mean that they don’t spit on you when you order?”

No, I mean that you can sit down at a table filled with complete strangers, introduce yourself and within twenty minutes you’ll be belting out drinking songs and they’ll be buying you drinks. I helped a construction crew ring in a mate’s birthday, then joined a crew of British yachters in celebrating, well, whatever it is that they were celebrating. I’ll be honest. It’s kind of hazy. I suggest you leave aspirin beside your bed before you go out. Also, bring at least two alarm clocks if you intend on waking before noon.

Fun Fact: Just one of the Lagavulin stills can hold almost 63% of what I had drank the night before my whisky tour.

The next day, you can proceed down to your distillery tour of choice. For myself, it was Lagavulin, perhaps the most distinct of all the Islay malts. Why, you ask? Because it tastes like jet fuel. Seriously. Lagavulin is made with more peat moss (used in the roasting of the barley) than just about any other Islay whisky, and you can taste it in the final product.

Lagavulin’s developed a huge cult following among seasoned whisky drinkers, and most of the unique blends are extremely difficult to track down, as the brand is currently producing less whisky than what the market is demanding. You heard me the first time. Bring money.

There are a few different ways that you can get to the distillery. You can drive, assuming that you rented a car before you arrived. Or you can blow a fair sum of money and take a cab. Or, like a proper pilgrim, you can walk the 3 – 5 miles down to the distillery. The choice is yours, but the countryside is beautiful and the walk is a good way to clear your head after a long night of drinking.

The whisky tour was memorable, but I won’t spoil it by describing it here. It is worth noting that this is not like touring the Jameson’s distillery in Dublin. This is a real, working distillery with all the parts thereof. You get to see whisky go through all of its stages of production, and meet some of the master craftsman that have been labouring for decades to get the process just right. The more you appreciate a good Scotch, the more you’ll enjoy this part of the trip.

Distillery tours are best done in pairs, so that one of you can distract the tour guide while the other puts their mouth under the hose.

The highlight of the tour was when we came to the warehouse where they fill the casks, and our tour guide produced a clear pitcher full of fresh, cask-strength whisky. For myself and the rest of the Scotch aficionados that had made our way to Lagavulin to see what made this marvellous libation tick, this was a once in the lifetime opportunity. In turn we each cupped our hands, did our best to forget that it was 9:35 in the morning, and sampled the pure, unadulterated soul of the whisky. It was amazing. I felt the presence of God. He tastes like peat moss.

Once the tour was complete, we had the chance to sample an aged glass of Lagavulin in the sitting room, visit with our fellow tourists, and browse the gift shop. This is where the extra money comes in. I don’t know about where it is that you live, but they do not carry bottles of 25 year old Lagavulin at the government-run liquor store in Kingston, Ontario, and if they did, it’d probably cost a fortune.

Well, it still costs a fortune at the Lagavulin distillery, but at least it’s for sale. So if you have 100 pounds that are burning a hole in your pocket, do yourself a favour and buy a bottle. They also had a few bottles left over from when the Port Ellen distillery was still in business, so if you’re interested in picking up a piece of history, those bottles aren’t going to be around forever.

While there are various social events running throughout the year, the island tends to get a little sleepy in the off season. I went in October, and there wasn’t much of a tourist presence to be seen. However, there is an annual whisky festival held at the end of May, potentially stretching to early June. Call the White Hart to make reservations and ask for details. Don’t put this off. They tend to fill up early for such an illustrious occasion.

Finally, I implore you to not make the same mistake that I did. Take two weeks in Scotland, and spend at least a week in Islay. If the whisky and the hospitality doesn’t warm your heart, then the breathtaking scenery certainly will. And what of the second week? Why, Edinburgh of course.

But that’s a trip all its own.

The ever-crowded beaches of Playa Tamarindo, Costa Rica

Odds are good that you’ve never heard of Playa Tamarindo.

Well, for starters, it’s in Costa Rica. You probably know a bit more about Costa Rica, as you’re likely aware that it’s warm there and that they have monkeys. Or possibly Communists. Or Communist monkeys. But it is warm, right? Is it an island? Oh, it’s in Central America. You mean Nebraska?

Okay, odds are good you don’t know that much about Costa Rica, either.

Playa Tamarindo does, in fact, have monkeys. And it is warm there. But it’s better known for it’s three main domestic products, in order of availability:

1.) Cocaine

2.) Beautiful women

3.) Sand

If you have been in Tamarindo for more than three minutes and you have not been offered an informal cash transaction involving at least two of these commodities, it’s probably because your car door is still locked.

Assuming that you do want to leave your car and you’re not interested in paying for any of these, a good strategy is to refuse such offers politely, but firmly. Another strategy is to inquire about the going rate for plastic explosives, 7.62 mm ball ammunition and quality scuba gear.

Either way, you’ll be left alone from then on.

The safest way to get to Tamarindo is to fly a small, rickety single-engine aircraft over vast stretches of uninhabited rainforest to a deserted stretch of concrete about five minutes outside the town, then down a “road” that is usually under three feet of river during the rainy season.

Those of you wary of dying a fiery death in a Costa Rican charter plane may elect to, God help you, travel the six hours by car from San Jose along the country’s main highway, a two lane faux-concrete nightmare with potholes so large that, after whole cars disappear into them, if you strain your ears, you just might be able to hear the echo.

Should you survive an encounter with a Costa Rican pothole and emerge, triumphantly, with little more than light body damage or a bent rim, you can ask for directions to the nearest 24 hour garage. It’ll be operated by illegal immigrants from Nicaragua. (¿De dónde los veinte garage de cuatro horas es funcionado por los inmigrantes ilegales de Nicaragua?)

Be sure to keep cash on hand: an emergency rim job can easily cost as much as $2 in Central America.

While undertaking the perilous drive through the rainforest, remember that it is illegal to buy baby chicks from roadside vendors.

The currency of Costa Rica is known as the “Colones” and sounds deceptively similar to “Cajones.” Fair exchange on the Colones is roughly 450 per American dollar, but barely 200 for Cajones. Don’t be taken in by this all-too-common scam.

The national motto for Costa Rica is “Pura Vida”. Informally translated, this means “pure living”. Formally translated, it means “our cocaine is of the highest quality”.

The main attraction of Playa Tamarindo is surfing, by which I mean the white-hot surfer babes. You can get a lesson and rent a board for about $20 for an afternoon.

Or you can buy a 32 oz. bottle of the Costa Rican moonshine known as “Guaro” for $5 and ogle the surfers as you slowly pickle yourself. Surf stores are plentiful, though Witch’s Rock Surf Camp has the best reputation. And there’s no finer Guaro than Cacique brand. It has a shiny red label and a picture of an Incan tribesman on it.

Accommodation ranges from the cheapest of the cheap ($15-20 per night, short walk from the beach, no A/C, not hot water, awoken by hot, hot rooster sex each morning at sunrise) to four star ($150, full A/C, breakfast buffet, beach front, ocean view).

Cheap accommodation can be found in the hostels across the road, while luxury accommodation is found solely in the hotel Tamarindo Diria. Hotel Pasatiempo provides good middle ground, and may have weekly rates available. If you’re going down for a week with a few friends, look into renting a condo from El Diria or one of the local luxury homes. If you have no fear of death or robbery, it is legal to camp on the beach.

The view from the balcony of the Tamarindo Diria.

There’s a supermarket there if, for some bizarre reason, you want to cook for yourself. Restaurants are cheap and plentiful, and you can get yourself a lobster dinner for about $15. Most other meals run in the $5 to 10 range, and are unlikely to poison you or contain parts of an animal that you might send to fetch your slippers. (Please keep in mind that these were prices from the early ’00s – inflation being what it is, it probably now costs $99.95 for Filet de la Fido.)

Be sure to bring plenty of hard cash or traveler’s cheques. There are only two bank machines in the entire town, one of which will likely be broken during your entire trip, the other of which should be easy to find, as the line for it will stretch for well over a block. So when you do get a chance to take out money, take out a lot. It’s amazing how fast $2 drinks can add up to a healthy bar tab and possible liver disorder.

There are plenty of bars to choose from, though Mambo Bar and Hotel Pasatiempo seem to get most of the business by the end of the night. Once they close, Hotel Kalifornia, the local “after hours club” (read: hooker bar) is open a few hours longer. Swimming in the ocean under the stars or, in the rainy season, under the heat lightening is a good way to end a night of heavy drinking and will cut through a potential lover’s underwear like a nuclear-powered laser beam.

Despite being off the beaten path, Playa Tamarindo suffers its share of tourist traps. Don’t expect to find a cheap bottle of sunscreen or your favourite brand of cigarettes. If you want to take home some cigars, call up Vegas de Santiago and have them shipped to your hotel in advance, unless you prefer to smoke overpriced counterfeit Cubans.

All in all, Costa Rica is a great place to get into (relatively) harmless trouble and Tamarindo is perhaps the best party spot in the entire country. If you like surfing (or staring at surfers), palm trees, cheap beer, golden sand, and being offered cocaine at every fifteen paces, then you can’t go wrong.