shots here. But, honestly, could you put yourself in better hands? I doubt it. I love this, my island.
If you have previously visited Islay, you have probably felt the attraction for yourself, the magic of this place. If you haven’t yet had the pleasure of this unique corner of the world, then I hope I can at least give you an idea of its appeal. These mere 250 square miles are far more than just my birthplace. In truth, they are a source of great pride. My Islay roots nourish and sustain me, and I doubt it’s just me who sees it that way. Living on Islay also means that you are part of a community; believe me, on an island like this we all know and respect each other and know pretty much everything about each other. When it comes down to it, the islanders stick together in a way that might be hard for visitors to understand. The island community is strong.
For instance, pay attention to what happens when you are driving on Islay. When we meet another vehicle on the road, we raise our hand briefly to greet each other – the Islay Wave. It is obligatory here, no matter who is behind the wheel, and it’s taken for granted. But it sometimes irritates a number of visitors. I often see people who, having experienced it for the first time, slow down or even stop because they think there is something wrong with the car. The local paper has printed letters from visitors who were convinced they had been mistaken for someone else. However, it’s just a wonderful gesture indicating, “Hello, good to see you!” Does it cost us anything? Not a thing, not a single penny – but it brings so much and it helps sustain our sense of community. When you come to Islay, you’re part of the family, a wonderful and natural hospitality. Team spirit works, and we feel comfortable with this team spirit; you might even say we need it. We share our lives here in a limited space – so everyone has to accept that, a fact that the majority have understood. This island is famous all around the world, because it’s a veritable hotspot for whisky, a detail about which we will talk later. Nine of the world’s most important whisky distilleries exist here, apparently for good reason. Legend has it that God was once asked why he entrusted the art of whisky distilling to the Scots, to which He replied that the Scots could easily handle the responsibility of preserving the art. Show me a single spot on this earth where over 20 million litres of pure alcohol are produced a year and where the crime rate is so low as to be virtually immeasurable? Statistically speaking, that’s over 50,000 litres per Ileach … and yet almost zero crime. Such paradisia can only be found on Islay. And it works, having done so for generations.
The port of Bowmore.
The Loch Indaal Lighthouse Rubh an Duin.
Islay is a success story of a very special kind, yet not only to do with the water of life, the whisky. When I talk about Islay, what resonates is the wonderful landscape, the untamed force of nature, the special location, the people, the community. That’s what I mean when I talk about Islay. I would like to take you with me, to let you share my adventurous and often almost unbelievable journey of a lifetime.
To be a part of Scotland, be a part of the whisky world, be a part of Islay and be an Ileach for a moment, sit down in your armchair, treat yourself to a dram and join me …
2 From the Potato Holidays Into the Wild West
I have always seen the fact that I was born on Islay as a stroke of luck, for which I am very grateful. This island is still the perfect place for me and always has been. Looking back, however, many, many things have changed over these past 70 years. Life on Islay today is nothing like it was then. I was born at a time when the aftermath of the war was still very present, having ended only three years before I was born, leaving clear traces and wounds. Although the war was over, the price of victory had been high and painful. On Islay, husbands, fathers, sons, brothers had lost their lives, now missing from the island, but more importantly, missing from their families.
In the late 1940s and early 1950s the economic situation was still dire, with a lack of money everywhere in the country, while food was still rationed. Those were conditions that we can scarcely imagine today, and thank God we don’t have to. Fortunately or unfortunately, you don’t choose your way into life! Those were very hard times, but they are undeniably a part of my life, helping make me who I am today, and making it possible for me to lead the life I’ve lived. And to be honest, it’s been a pretty good life. I am firmly of the belief that our lives are already planned, even before we take matters into our own hands, this personal book of life having been written prior to our birth. If life was not easy in Scotland as a whole, it was even more difficult on Islay, but still uniquely beautiful. I would like to tell you a bit more about my childhood.
Jim at the age of about five.
At the centre of the island lies the beautiful village of Bowmore. Protecting and watching over everyone is a church perched at the highest point of the village, the only round church in the whole of Scotland. It was built in this shape in 1769 so that the devil could not hide in any corners. Unsurprisingly, the devil has never been sighted in Bowmore.
Jim’s birthplace.
My birthplace, at 7 Main Street, was about halfway between the church and Bowmore distillery, in a building that currently houses the Royal Bank of Scotland. That means there is a lot of money in the house today, but when I was born that was hardly the case. It was sorely lacking then. There were four families living in the building, each in very small flats. I lived on the top floor with my mother Margaret, who everyone called Peggy, and my grandmother Kate. Next door to us lived a woman with her son. On the ground floor, on the right, lived an elderly, retired woman, and a fisherman lived opposite. It was all quite crowded. Our small flat consisted simply of a kitchen-living room and two bedrooms in which my mother and grandmother slept. I usually slept on the sofa, because we couldn’t afford another bed. Poverty was part of our everyday lives. To keep us all warm, there was a small, coal-fired stove on which we also cooked. We had few, if any, luxuries, focussing solely on the essentials. However, we had a roof over our heads that we could call ‘home’, a safe place in which to live, and where we could eat and sleep.
Life in those days was much slower – not easier, just slower. Production in the distilleries had yet to resume, and in those war-torn times, life really demanded a lot. With hardly any jobs in the early 1950s, even we children had to do our bit in order to survive. I recall very clearly that we had special holidays at school, referred to as the ‘Potato Holidays’. This meant that all the children went out into the fields, in all weathers, at harvest time to pick potatoes. Outside all day, bending down, picking up and then carrying the heavy baskets together, it was pretty hard work for children, but it didn’t stop us from having some fun too. Every day we were dirty and covered in mud from top to bottom, for when it rained there was no slacking; the job had to be done. And there are many rainy days on Islay. However, we received a small wage, the equivalent of about 50 pence a day. It wasn’t much, but it was honestly earned and much needed income, on top of which, we were also given a sack of potatoes. In the evening, when we ate them together, they tasted even better. My mother and grandmother were great cooks, always able to make a great meal out of very little. Today, you really only know about all the hardship and poverty from old black-and-white films, yet life was anything but black-and-white. For us as children it was often very colourful. When I recall my childhood, what comes to mind most is what it meant to live on an island. Though today, regular ferry and air services provide the island with everything it needs,
