No trip is better than the one crossing distilleries where the stills resting and the barrels breathing in time with the wind as through gathering momentum to take flight.

My first sip of this 32-year-old whisky, and it begins.

A warm nose, reassuring and in fact somewhat paternal. Popping grains emanating wet hay aroma laden with ripe fruit caress us and prepare us for a second movement rich in flowers, resin and autumn leaves. In the mouth, peace, and the sense of satisfaction a child experiences on his high chair just between the last spoonful and his afternoon nap.

Sated with the dimension and balance of alcohol, wood and time that only this ponderous ageing process can bestow, we prepare to unearth the interstitial tones within this work of art. Fruit in syrup, bread straight out of the oven, proving dough all the way to the waft from an oven newly lit with fresh wood.