Last autumn, we had the great fortune of visiting Campbeltown – the remote fishing town on the west coast of Scotland, and once the whisky capital of the world. With storm clouds gathering overhead, we sought refuge in the three remaining distilleries, delving deeper into the town’s fascinating history of decline and resurgence. Photo credit: Glengyle Distillery.

Campbeltown. The mere mention of the name will light up the eyes of the most passionate whisky collectors. Its spirits are highly coveted, revered and cherished – if you are lucky enough to get your hands on a bottle.  

But behind the whisky, this is a thoroughly unassuming town. It is located at the far end of the Kintyre Peninsula, overlooking the Firth of Clyde. There is only one road into Campbeltown, stretching down the length of the peninsula, overlooking the sea lapping the shore. The Northern Irish coast looms on the horizon, almost within touching distance.  

Around 4,600 people live here, and there are three working distilleries: Glen Scotia, Glengyle and Springbank. Here, the hotels and pubs have a faded air, as if you’ve slipped back in time. Red leather and tartan, proper but unfussy. Ghost signs remain legible on the side of buildings. Fishing boats are moored in the harbour. There are hints of a colourful past everywhere you look, because this was once the whisky capital of the world. 

* 

Records tell us that at the turn of the 19th century, Campbeltown had 31 distilleries. This figure would grow to 37 throughout the 1800s. Two major industries blossomed here: whisky and herring. Picture a bustling hub of rolling barrels, fishing boats pulling into shore amid the market calls of the fishmongers. Distillery workers in their flat caps, the stench of fish curing in the sun. Smoke billowing from the pagoda chimneys.  

These appear to have been times of prosperity, abundance and industry. Turning the clock a little further back, there were reputed to have been 31 illegal stills operating in the town by the end of the 18th century. Distillers no doubt found resourceful and canny ways of hiding their spirit from “the exciseman” – the bogeyman of the 1700s. Then, in 1823, the Excise Act made it easier for distilleries to become licensed, and a legitimate whisky industry began to bloom. It may seem like one of Scotland’s most isolated outposts now, but in the era of the steamship, it was primely located between the rest of Scotland and Ireland, with an easy route south too.  

We are told all this by our guide, Aly Anaut, who is showing us around town on a drizzly grey Wednesday. Aly is an animated guide with a clear passion for whisky, which has brought him here from Cusco, Peru, with his family.  

As we walk, Aly points out the dark red and black bricks that the buildings are built from. These came from all over the world, brought in on steamships as ballast. We turn a corner, and he draws our attention to the shape of the windows in residential flats, speaking to their former lives as distilleries. Even the Tesco in town is an old distillery.  

He tells us how the town’s whisky used to be nicknamed “stinky fish” hinting at the casks’ former lives. A little further north, the Duke of Argyll’s castle in Inveraray was built with funds earned from selling the loch water to the town’s whisky-makers. These are small, almost incidental, details, but each one is a brushstroke building a larger picture of a thriving past.  

* 

Our first stop is Springbank, the oldest remaining distillery in town, dating back to 1828. Its whiskies are among the world’s most desirable. They’re released by ballot, so it’s luck of the draw if you will get one. Even when we arrive at 8 o’clock in the morning, there is already a long queue of tourists forming outside.  

Springbank has an old-school production philosophy, retaining a malt floor for the entirety of their barley. The barley is raked and turned manually at regular intervals. This is the traditional way of converting the starch into sugars, but is a labour-intensive and backbreaking process. Less traditional are the fairy-lights strung along the walls of the malt room, casting a golden glow over the grain. The pillars are painted in vivid hues: pillarbox red, mustard, forest green, violet and gold. It’s charmingly quaint, as far as traditional distilleries go; apparently, the local mice are keen on the ambience too. 

Craig, our distillery guide, tells us that 110 people work here, many of them graduates from Herriot-Watt University. A deliberate effort is made to keep the old skills alive (a particular interpretation of “sustainability” that seems to chime with many distilleries). Everyone here is local: after the NHS and the government, Springbank is the biggest employer in the area. The distillery has always been driven by a desire to bring employment to the area – a legacy of its late owner, Hedley G. Wright.  

When Wright passed away in August 2023, he had been part of the Scotch whisky industry for over six decades. It wasn’t just about making whisky; it was just as much about creating employment and security for the families of Campbeltown. He is spoken of in warm, reverent tones, and it’s already clear his legacy will be upheld with pride here.  

Springbank produces three key expressions: Longrow and Hazelburn (named after historical distilleries), and the eponymous Springbank. Simplicity and tradition are paramount in their whisky-making approach. Analogue technology fills the distillery, from the postbox-red Porteus mills that grind the grain, to a cast-iron Victorian mash tun in which the grain is steeped. What they refer to as “the computer” is an old-fashioned tablet hanging on a pillar.  

Springbank backs onto the second of Campbeltown’s surviving distilleries: Glengyle. The history of Glengyle echoes that of many of the town’s other distilleries. It opened in 1872, then closed in 1925. Almost 80 years later, it was brought back to life by Hedley Wright, and it remains under the same ownership as Springbank. Glengyle produces a whisky called Kilkerran, which is also named after another historical distillery. 

As we move between the two distilleries, rain falls in sheets on the corrugated iron roofing, and the wind howls. The smell of sweet cereal and fruity spirit lingers in the air. Talk turns to the future. Planning permission has just been granted for another three distilleries. Business is booming in Campbeltown.  

“The more the merrier,” says Craig. “It’ll attract more people to the town.” With people come more hotels, more golf courses. In this way, the whisky trade is deeply entwined with tourism and other industries – which, for now, is a welcome development in the town.  

The conversation turns to more immediate challenges. There’s rough weather ahead: landslides on the roads, cancelled ferries. In a town as remote as this, these are big – but not uncommon – considerations. The possibilities of being stranded are very real. When the tourists come, they will no doubt brave these storms, but how will the locals fare? Time will tell. 

We warm up with a tasting of a couple of drams, starting with the 23-year-old Hazelburn. It’s drawn straight from the cask and released into our glasses, and it enlivens us with notes of sweet toffee, red apple, melon, vanilla and sweet wood.  

Then we move onto the Springbank 32-year-old. It’s always a privilege to taste something that’s been maturing in a cask for this long. As you might expect, it has a beautiful integration of flavours, softened with time. Golden apples, pear, sweet wood and vanilla. Chamomile, peach, toffee and elderflower. Each sip offers so much, lingering on the tongue as our time at Springbank reaches its end.  

* 

Next, we visit Glen Scotia, the last of the three remaining distilleries. Since it started making whisky in 1832, it has changed hands many times, and it closed twice in its chequered history: the first time in 1930, with its owner Duncan McCallum sadly taking his own life; the second time in 1984. The distillery in its present iteration has been running since 1999 under the ownership of the Loch Lomond Distillery Group, based up the road towards Glasgow.  

Master Distiller Iain Macallister has been here for 17 years, coming from a background in engineering. He brings a scientific and experimental approach to the process, while paying homage to Campbeltown’s heritage. “The process is simple,” Iain tells us, “but there’s so much complexity built into that simplicity.” 

The whiskies here are made in a classic style, with a subtly sweet and saline character, and a certain delicacy about them. They produce a range of age-statement expressions, but their most remarkable bottling is the Victoriana. This is inspired by a more robust Victorian style of whisky, full of rich spiced fruit, cinnamon and nuts, with a hint of subtle smoke. 

We’re standing in the old warehouse where the barrels are kept, wrapped in warm layers with a glass of whisky in hand. It is easy to imagine what it must have felt like here in the 1800s. Little has changed, apart from the installation of electrical lights. Grey stone walls reach high above us, covered in centuries’ worth of black mould – which isn’t as undesirable as it sounds. Iain tells us the fungus creates a layer of insulation, adding a certain character and richness to the liquid as it matures in the casks. Such a unique patina is only gained with time.  

Iain draws some whisky out of a barrel and pours it into our outstretched glasses. We are tasting a first-fill Bourbon cask from 1991. The liquid has a beautifully mellow character, with notes of cinnamon, vanilla, sweet wood spice and caramel, all woven together like silk. 

After this, we taste a Guyana rum cask from 2003. It’s brimming with tropical fruits, with a gentle coil of peat smoke. Pineapple, mango and juicy apples, with a flash of coastal brine. It is warming, soothing and invigorating at once. 

* 

Above us, the rain beats harder. The wind whistles an ominous tune through the wooden beams. The storm has arrived. We were meant to be visiting Lochranza and Lagg distilleries on the Isle of Arran, but our ferry has been cancelled. So instead, we leave Glen Scotia behind us and begin the long journey back to Glasgow, hoping for a smooth passage.  

We drive carefully up the long, lonely road that extends along the flank of the peninsula, watching the sea crash against the rocks and the wind drag the waves askew. The sky is the same colour as the distillery walls, thick and furious.  

Campbeltown has been shaped by its history, but it has also been shaped by its landscape. The whisky, for all its smoothness and richness, still contains a little of this character. Something hard, weathered and timeless; capable of enduring all manner of storms, and returning from what seems like the end.  

If you are lucky to taste a dram from Campbeltown, dig under the surface and you might find it.