LAGAVULIN Vs LAPHROAIG: PART 1

THE LAPHROAIG LAGAVULIN BATTLE: PART 1

 LAPHROAIG

The name Laphroaig is Gaelic and means “The beautiful hollow by the broad bay”. Laphroaig is one of the oldest distilleries on Islay and this story shows that, despite whisky distilling being often romanticised, it was also a dangerous occupation.

After the Scottish Civil War of 1745, three Johnston brothers came to Islay, ostensibly for farming and the three occupied different parts of Islay on lease from Islay's Laird Walter Campbell. Two of the three brothers, Donald and Alexander, started their own farms at Laphroaig around 1810 and together began licensed distilling in 1815. The third son also leased a plot, but lost interest and left for the mainland, fading out of the picture. When Alexander died in 1836, Donald became the sole owner of the Laphroaig distillery. Their neighbouring distillery was David Johnstone's Lagavulin,licensed in 1816.

At that time the Campbells, who owned Donald's land, leased that third plot to James and Andrew Gairdner who built a rival distillery next to Laphroaig. They installed two experienced Clackmann distillers, James and Andrew Stein, to take charge. Donald Johnston, owner of Laphroaig at the time, was deeply disturbed finding out that the new distillery, Ardenistiel, proposed to use the same water source that they were using. It was this water that made an immensely vital contribution to Laphroaig's unique character, all the more so when Donald was about to expand his business; any diversion or sharing would leave him with insuperably inadequate water supply.

Donald appealed to the judiciary about the problems he had with the sharing of the water supply and the fact that the expansion of his business wasn’t possible without proper water supply. The dispute lasted almost 6 years and ended abruptly when Andrew Stein fell ill with fever and died soon afterwards. His brother James, who couldn’t cope with distilling alone, stopped and moved to Port Ellen. In June the following year Donald himself died in a tragic accident at the Laphroaig distillery. His son, Dugald, was just a wee lad, so Lagavulin's new owner Walter Graham leased Laphroaig and ran both distilleries, though Dugald came of age in 1857 and was, on paper, the owner of Laphroaig. Dugald, his son Alex and nephew Ian Hunter would feature prominently in the years ahead as he grew up and learned the trade and its finer arts.

Laphroaig in 1887 with the ruins of Ardenistiel distillery in the right hand bottom corner

The Ardenistiel Distillery was also known as Kildalton (1849-52) and Islay (1852). This distillery was taken over by Laphroaig in 1853.

Laphroaig became a successful whisky distillery and the neighbouring Lagavulin distillery sought to cash in on Laphroaig's success and built identical stills to try and get the same taste as Laphroaig. The Lagavulin distillery, however, got its water "from the other side of the hill" which was the reason for the different character of Lagavulin whisky and its failure in copying Laphroaig. It is also said that the location of the maturation houses from Laphroaig, being so close to the sea, make a difference in the taste.

LAGAVULIN

‘Lagavulin, or “The Mill Hollow”, one of the oldest places of habitation in the island is situated on the margin of the sea and together with its picturesque surroundings, combine to make it one of the most desirable locations upon the island, so justly designated the Queen of the Hebrides.’

The Lagavulin story begins, as so often in tales of Scotch whisky, with smuggling and illegality. Lagavulin is the oldest distillery on Islay, the business having been actually commenced by a smuggling fraternity as early as the year 1742 in about 10 separate bothies in the bay.

Lagavulin only went legit in 1816, when the various enterprises were combined into not one, but initially two distilleries, operating side by side and owned by the same family, the Johnstones. The second plant, confusingly named Ardmore, ceased production shortly afterwards.

We must say that the salubrity of atmosphere, good water, and the finest quality of malt have much to do with the production of Lagavulin whisky. Lagavulin has a high reputation both at home and abroad; as a single whisky its reputation is unique, and it is one of the few Highland whiskies that can be drunk alone.’            Alfred Barnard, pioneering Victorian whisky writer

These were Victorian times, and people didn’t talk about drinking a great deal. Writing about the Highlands seems to have given people permission to write about drinking. And when they write about drinking, people seem to have been drinking Lagavulin.

When Lagavulin came under the control of Peter Mackie in 1878, he clearly wanted to celebrate the fame of his distilleries, as well as creating the White Horse blend. These were two of only four brands of Scotch Whisky that USA allowed entry during its infamous Prohibition Era, doled out as a medicinal prescription by doctors.
                  

The Lagavulin/White Horse association, made manifest by the painted equine emblem on the roof of the distillery, remains to this day: while most of Lagavulin’s production is destined for bottling as a single malt, it is still part of the White Horse blend.

‘Restless Peter’s reputation is coloured by some of his actions. Irked by the loss of the agency for neighbouring Laphroaig, he built a painstaking replica distillery within Lagavulin, using his knowledge of its operations and even poaching someone from the distillery two miles down the road to seal the deal.

But Malt Mill, as this early micro-distillery became known, didn’t produce Laphroaig. Or Lagavulin, for that matter. It was used in a couple of Mackie blends, particularly Ancient Scotch, as it had a very unusual phenolic character, very different to Lagavulin.

Used for blending and never – as far as is known – bottled as a single malt, Malt Mill ceased operations in 1962 and remains one of the more enigmatic ‘lost’ distilleries, epitomising the elusive nature of distillery character. It is also referred to as ‘a tribute to Peter Mackie’s bloody-mindedness’.

Mackie’s reputation as an eccentric is only part of the story. He set up the first lab for whisky quality and was obsessed with whisky quality and consistency. And Lagavulin reaped the rewards.

Lagavulin is generally drunk throughout the island and is much prized by the inhabitants… Lagavulin whisky is sold largely in Scotland, England and the chief foreign markets, and is in such demand that the orders exceed the output, which reaches 100,000 gallons annually. 

Lagavulin today, while dwarfed by bigger brands such as Glenfiddich and The Glenlivet, is a stalwart single malt, a global favourite that was part of the sextet that formed the initial Classic Malts line-up. But why Lagavulin and not, for instance, Caol Ila?

‘Quality and reputation,’ responds an aficionado . ‘In the discussions that went into choosing the Classic Malts there were two or three factors in play. One would be quality and reputation – which is quite amorphous, but we all know which distilleries are famous and which aren’t. Then attractiveness: could you take visitors there? It would never have been Caol Ila.’

The deliberations fell short, however, on the matter of supply. Tying Lagavulin to a 16-year-old age statement didn’t help either – and the distillery has remained on allocation for much of its recent past. They never imagined that Lagavulin would be selling 100,000 cases or whatever! In fact, ‘they’ wondered if anyone would want to drink Lagavulin at all. Delving back further into the 1980s when people were starting to agitate over the evident success of Glenfiddich and Glenmorangie, The Ascot Cellar collection (a Classic Malts precursor) included a 12-year-old Lagavulin – but only reluctantly. The old established DCL hands didn’t believe that people would drink Talisker, Lagavulin or Caol Ila. They thought all these brands were far too challenging.

In the end, a number of factors conspire to give a much-loved distillery like Lagavulin its special status: the liquid, without doubt, but also the place, the people and the history. And, in more practical and prosaic terms, its usefulness as both blending component and stand-alone single malt. This is the key to why Lagavulin (and Caol Ila) survived the cull of the early 1980s when Port Ellen didn’t. The DCL committee would have looked at a number of issues – the cost of alcohol insofar as they were able, the water supply (which wasn’t very good at Port Ellen), but the key was the recommendations of the blending committees. They asked which whiskies they wanted and which they didn’t need. Caol Ila and Lagavulin were very important. But if you’d asked people about Port Ellen even in the 1990s, nobody would have given a fig for it, and apparently it wasn’t a particularly pleasant place to work.’

And so, 200 years on from legal establishment, and considerably longer since distillation began at its location, Lagavulin remains, its buildings huddled into the dramatic landscape of the Kildalton coast in a romantic situation. The exigencies of the location make expansion problematic, although by no means impossible. Lagavulin is to some extent, trapped in its own history. 

FIRST POSTED ON 27 MAY 2017