Open Day Single Cask Exclusive | 55.4% ABV

Score: 8/10

**Something Special.**
***TL;DR***
*A voyage into the oily, coastal, herbaceous joys of Japanese Water Oak.*

A Tale.

Visiting a distillery is a brilliant way to explore whisky from its source. You’ve tried it remotely, but discovering where it’s made, crafted, distilled and possibly matured reveals hidden depths. Doors are open: a physical connection beckons, where the intricacies of that particular place are revealed, and if you’re lucky, you might get to try some unique stuff - sometimes directly from the cask.

Open Day events are a celebration of distilleries existing; a way to welcome everyone, punters and enthusiasts alike, to bash Glencairns together in the spirit of marking a fleeting moment in time. A journey enhanced by fiddlings with barley, water and yeast. It’s unfettered fun, and no more was that the case than at Ardnamurchan Distillery, who launched their Inaugural Open Day on the 19th June 2026.

Just shy of the 12 year marker, Ardnamurchan began distilling in July 2014 with an aim to secure a cask generation programme that would insulate them, just enough, from the dark side of the independent bottling game. Adelphi might be a tour-de-force of insanely good whiskies, but they still have to work with cask availability and supply. Ardnamurchan Distillery was the answer to the question of what happens if the supply dries up.

12 years on and, without putting too fine a point on it, Ardnamurchan Distillery is at the top of the field, for me and many others. Detractors, lukewarmers and downright contrarians aside, Ardnamurchan has unquestionably done more than enough hard graft and intelligent route planning to make sure that, as whisky endures a rough sea, they remain afloat. Carl Crafts does contribute some 63.4% of their buoyancy mind you, but still.

If you have a few years and a sick bag, you can read about just how much I love this place, having spilled more ink than is fair or reasonable extolling the joys of touring Glenbeg’s warehouses and enjoying their inimitable spirit. As an enthusiast, the windowed insight into the whisky maturing at Ardnamurchan’s on-site warehouses has been remarkable, every time. Just when I think there’s a plateau on the horizon, something comes along to alter the graph.

The Open Day was still to come, but first an AD/Venturer evening of frolics at the nearby Ardnamurchan Bunkhouse, on Thursday evening. I set off from Eilean a' Cheò early to catch my ferry at 10am, but just before setting off we all received an email to say that the road on either side of the distillery was undergoing some unannounced maintenance, and that there would be closures pretty much all throughout the day.

For those at the Bunkhouse it was not a problem. All they had to do was roll out of their dorm rooms into the main atrium and have at it. Some were camping at Kilchoan, some at Acharacle, and those folks had to catch buses timed with the armistice. My goal was to arrive early and pitch a tent in Calum’s garden, literally a stone’s throw from the malt floor cooling tower. I would have to hitch a ride with someone, or walk the 45 minutes in the pouring rain.

You might consider pitching a tent exceptionally good thinking, being so near to the distillery, but when I arrived and started unfurling the frankly beautiful tent that an extremely generous Belgian lady bestowed upon me, the ripple of laughter from the staff darting around the place was potent. Good luck. The midgies thrive upon ignorance.

Once the tent was up, I nipped over to the shoppe to grab a hand-fill. Regardless of what it might be, I always try to buy one when I’m there, because it’s always interesting and always delicious. This time around it was a 6yo Oloroso Sherry octave, made with Golden Promise barley. Cask #175 and presented at 55.7% ABV. As standard it was offered at £1/cl, so a nicely affordable and more than reasonable £50.

I bumped into Graeme Mackay, who offered me a spin of the Open Day Exclusive, which I accepted gratefully as he gave me a quick run-down of the special oak and what it means. He had places to be, so I finished my wee nip and headed back over to the tent, where I lay down and listened to the rain pelting off the sheet. My mind started to release all its knots.

At the Bunkhouse the party had already started, and I found myself where I usually am - on the periphery, Billy no-mates. So I bucked up the courage to sit down and insert myself into the earshot of conversations already in progress. Then I saw Arran’s smiling face, and off we went - Ewan plonked down soon after and then everyone’s favourite whisky exciter, Graham Fraser, arrived with a Glen Grant 15yo thumped onto the table. BYOB, and Graham came out swinging. The border boys were in town, and they scooped me up into their warming embrace.

Robert, the gentlest, warmest and most dedicated Californian I’ve ever met, arrived with the caterers from Acharacle and helped them in with the venison stew we’d soon be shovelling down our pie-holes. We drank Arran’s stonking high-altitude Malbec from Cielo Arriba, and chatted about all things whisky. Robert showed me the app that he’s been developing over the past three years, a whisky app that allows you to quickly log any and all drams that pass your lips, and form a quite comprehensively wonderful scope of what you’re tasting, where your preferences land, and connect with people through the social side of the app.

In practice it’s ridiculously good, slick as a slick thing, and very capable indeed. Scanning a label self-populates the entry with all the important information. There’s discovery, planning and anything you might need to make sure your journey is logged appropriately. I have been using it, and you should think of doing so too - it’s called Drammr, and is available for free, to anyone, from the app store of your choice. Please do check it out, he’s worked incredibly hard on it, and it shows.

It was time for the tasting to commence, and it’s here I find myself challenged to say much, given how many drams were NDA. We began with the Don himself, Alex Bruce, presenting a joyous 16yo cider brandy soon to be released by Adelphi, matured in an apple ice wine cask that I believe now has Ardnamurchan distillate inside it. Alex really does have some wonderful stories to tell. Then a 10yo central-belter appeared, which was just that, presented by another central-belter Carl Crafts. So tall. So floaty.

The guns, big and mighty, were drawn by Connie. A 30yo Imperial, taken from the same cask that was sold for £12,500 at The Distillers One of One auction. That was 29yo spirit then - we enjoyed a year’s extra maturation in our glasses. The ripple of awe around the room was, in and of itself, exciting. We were holding rarified air. A place that no longer exists, a true time capsule. 30 years of maturation inside a refill bourbon ASB, filled on the 24th April 1996. Holding on at 53.5% too - 30 years and not much alcohol lost to the angels.

Next up was another rare treat - a 10yo Talisker, bottled under the Fascadale moniker of Adelphi’s range, drawn from the cask in 2009. So a bottled whisky that has sat in Alex’s cupboard for 17 years. Even that stat is blowing my tiny mind - 2009 does not feel like that long ago. Tasty whisky as well! Antonia presented this one and reminded everyone that she’s untouchable when it comes to her ability to pluck devastatingly funny references from such left-field outposts that you don’t realise you’re doubled over in laughter until you pass out from the blood rushing to your head.

Calum was next, and I can’t say anything about this on the penalty of death. Needless to say it was delicious and not at all far away in smell, taste and quality, from the Talisker that preceded it. No more can be said. I like my life. Calum shot the photo of the label on his drone. It looks great. It has gold bits. Thank you.

Not to be outdone, the final dram was a 1977 Bunnahabhain sampled in 2005, and was presented by Graeme, another of Ardnamurchan’s rapturous orators. He has a way with words, fast and precise, yet so damned funny at the same time. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and the Bunna was just the same. 50.6% too - super liquid.

With that, the evening of Adelphi fun was at an end. We all parted ways knowing tomorrow was a big day, catching the bus back with the team to the distillery with ex-Formula 1/Kilchoan local bus driver Gordon Mackenzie at the wheel, who now spends his days as Distillery Manager. I crowbarred my way into the team debrief and drank a few of their tasty highballs, before heading off to spend my first night under the stars in the tent. Fat chance of stars, for the heavens were releasing all their pent-up fury. I was offered the couch, but I took the opportunity for a full-body experience.

Waking up with a start, I knew immediately the areas of improvement, if camping was to be a sustainable thing: a sleep mask and a Camelbak for a start. A bird was shouting aggressively into what seemed like the fabric of the tent, announcing to everyone that it was 4am. The head was sore and I needed water urgently. Luckily I had bought a 5 litre jug at the Co-op in Mallaig. I had an abundance of hydration. I just wished I didn’t need to sit up to lift the hulking mass to my puckered facehole.

It was soon time to get ready for the big day, so I got myself showered and presentable, before getting down to the big task of the day: winning the photography prize. There was some nervous chat the night before about how many people would make the pilgrimage to the remote Glenbeg distillery - the Open Day was part of the new West Highland Whisky Festival, starting with Nc’Nean on the Thursday, Ardnamurchan on Friday, Tobermory on Saturday and finishing with Oban on Sunday.

No-one need’ve worried, for by 10:30am there was a horde of punters filing off big buses and getting stuck in. I wandered around, Billy No Mates once more, capturing the smiling faces of people arriving at the distillery for the first time and understanding what a very special place it is. Just seeing the thrill through the eye-piece of my camera was enough to feel part of it.

My first tasting was 11am, where the Bruces presented a retrospective flight of whiskies ranging from 2yo-ish spirit drink, all the way through to a late 11yo single cask. If you haven’t experienced the enchantment of Alex and Antonia Bruce in story mode, you need to. All our prodding questions were met with tales of daring do and fascinating insight into just how serendipitous whisky can be.

We started with 2018/AD, the third instalment of the pre-whisky spirit drinks released to show just how interesting the Ardnamurchan spirit is, even before maturation begins. I’ve already tried this bottle extensively, but it was remarkable once more on the day. Then we were into the inaugural gambit, the 09.21:01. I have a bottle of this in my stash, gifted to me by Brian Caballes of Melbourne fame. He sent the bottle back from Australia to Scotland, and I’ve yet to open it. I have tried the inaugural through the First AD Kit sample set, but trying it on the day was mind blowing.

It was viscous, salty, sweet, coastal and all the things that Ardnamurchan has become acclaimed for delivering, but it felt vibrant and balanced as well. I asked whether or not the blending team referenced this inaugural bottling when replicating their core-range product, and it seems that there’s little use in doing so - the makeup in the inaugural was from stocks unrepeatable, so even if they wanted to, the stock at hand goes into other whisky (Maclean’s Nose). An unexpected byproduct of having older maturing, fantastic whisky. The goal is to have a 10yo core range product that exists in abundance, and we’re getting very close to enjoying such a thing.

Next up was the first ever 10yo OB release. Another bottle that sang, and was awarded Something Special in December 2024 by yours truly. Then we were into something else special - the Open Day Exclusive Mizunara single cask. Gloriously floral and surprisingly vegetal, the underpinning Ardna spirit was nothing if not bolstered by the one year of finishing in the leaky, uncompromising, hard to handle Mizunara oak. I’ll come back to this, obvs.

Finally it was a cask that has a special reference to me specifically yet something I once again cannot speak of. I can only say that Cask 229, a Spanish Oak Oloroso Hogshead from 2014, maturing for 11 years, was my favourite of the day. It showed what extra levels of complexity and depth are obtained even from an extra year and a bit, in a cask very similar to that which I have spent much time with.

We were punted out sharpish, for there was another tasting about to commence, navigating the sherries of this world, with Graeme and Connie, so I took my spoils and headed out to get some food into my face. I’d sat with the Border Boys at the tasting, Arran, Ewan and Graeme, so I limpetted myself to them as we went about our day. Beer, burgers, chips and a chat with Roddy Graham of Good Spirits Co passed the short break before the next event.

Calum and Carl were presenting a range of oddities from the warehouses, things not before seen, casks not before shared. Luckily for me I am allowed to talk about these ones! First out the gate was something I never expected, given the lack of wine casks in general at Ardnamurchan, but also my lack of awareness of this type of wine: Orange Wine - four years old and punchy, but the flavour was really interesting - soft citrus and subtlety - not zingy and edgy.

Next was a 4yo experiment, something I’m totally game for and, turns out, totally in love with. Blended at Birth is an experiment with Ardnamurchan and Dornoch Distillery, where two distilled spirits are vatted together fresh off the stills, and then filled into casks. This cask was a PX Hogshead, and it was incredibly good.

Then a white port finish - I’m loving the white port situ right now. Glen Garioch in white port is banging, as is Glasgow in white port. It brings a lot of juicy, floral sweetness. This was a 9yo whisky but I failed to catch the time spent in port. It might have been full maturation.

The final two were for the peatheads. The first was a regularly peated spirit (30ppm) filled into an ex-Islay cask, peat on peat. At 9 years maturation it was a resolved and robust experience, with lots of big, earthy smoke. I found it a wee bit souring, but at this point in the day I was starting down the garden path a bit.

Heavily Peated to finish: first-fill Bourbon barrel, 4 years old, 88ppm. A big smoky bamstick. I need more heavily peated Ardnamurchan in my life. We were shown this at the previous AD/Venturers evening, and most voted for it to be bottled.

At this point the buses were arriving to take punters back to Kilchoan and Acharacle, so drams were stuffed into faceholes, and glasses were collected. I decanted the peated stuff together, and the Blended at Birth was left just as it was for outside dramming. Incredible whisky, even when subjected to irregular casks. I just love how dexterous the Ardna spirit is - it seems to work in most casks.

As the day drew to a close the photography prize was due to be announced. I didn’t want to win it, which is the honest truth. I reluctantly accept that I’m regarded as decent with a camera, and goodness knows I take photographs like I breath, but I just didn’t want to be that guy. My goal was to document the day, for them, and for you.

The Ardna team read the room and awarded the prize to a cyclist who made his way to Glenbeg by pedal power. But, as is their inclusive way, the team decided to award three prizes, and I won an honorable mention, a dram of 38yo Mortlach, and a selfie with Mr Bruce, as a prize. Not awful.

I stood in the afternoon sunshine, now blazing from clear blue skies, watching the day fizzle out to a calm, contended rest as the team played Cornhole in the courtyard, decompressing; drinking a 38yo spirit and marvelling at how such a place, not just in whisky, but in the world, exists. A dreamland.

Distilleries are phenomenal places for connecting humans to each other through the sharing of liquid we call whisky. It’s probably no surprise to anyone reading this, but on a day like this one, with a wind above 5mph and the sun on our faces, I think Ardnamurchan Distillery to be one of the finest places in Whiskyland.

Review

Ardnamurchan 2016, Single Cask, Inaugural Festival Bottling - 10yo (9 in bourbon, 1 in Mizunara), 55.4% ABV
£90 - available at the Open Day

Returning to my other dreamland of the Isle of Skye, I spent the week jonesing for a dram - once you’re on the great wheel of whisky it’s hard to come off it, and returning with the Mizunara and hand-fill was temptation enough, but I managed to hold out to the weekend before unzipping that golden tin seal. Just.

The cold light of day has a way of usurping the blaze of magnificence shrouding an Open Day, especially like the one we all had at Ardnamurchan. Everything is amped. Drams that are deemed sensational are sometimes found wanting in isolation, and so the keenness to try the Mizunara was elevated.

Mizunara is a protected and notoriously complex to nurture Japanese oak species which, by the sounds of it, is awful for maturing whisky for prolonged periods of time. It’s leaky, breaks, splits, plays silly-billys and generally doesn’t co-operate much with the craft of whisky maturation. Yet, if it’s handled delicately and given the right environment within which to perform its magic, it can deliver quite remarkable results. I’m trying to remember the facts through a haze of retrospective memory recall, but I think most, if not all, of Chichibu’s casks are Mizunara.

It’s a sign of the times that a 10yo whisky from Ardnamurchan isn’t the main thing, yet here is a 2016 distilled spirit, 9 years in bourbon, 1 year in Mizunara, presented at 55.4% ABV. There are just 233 bottles of this whisky, which indicates a little of the leaky nature of Mizunara.

During the Bruce tasting someone shouted out for the official tasting notes and Antonia laughed because even for a team composed of such experienced palates, it was hard to get away from the Japanese flavour inclination. Maybe it’s subliminal; maybe using Mizunara casks brings some of the Japanese flavour spectrum to the Scottish spirit. I’m far too pedestrian to know of such things, something you realise when standing next to Graeme and gentle giant Al Macaoidh as they discuss the exquisite joys of Katsuobushi, or the artisanal sesame oil producer found in a backstreet market precinct of Seoul.

Anyway, It’s time to get into the Mizunara-finished Ardnamurchan single cask #296, and see what it means to have some leaky Japanese oak fiddle with the spirit.

Nose

Buttercream. Cedar. Orange blossom. Watermelon. Basil. Burnt sugar. Chalk dust. Cherry. Cinnamon. Coriander. Crème brûlée. Digestives. Eucalyptus. Flint. Gingerbread. Mint. Miso. Sea breeze. Black pepper. Coins. Horlicks.

Palate

Brioche. Buttercream. Cedar, cedar spice. Cinnamon rolls. Heather honey. Libraries. Wood. Old wood. Old cork. Orange blossom. Toasted oak. Candied orange peel. Custard doughnuts. Dried pipe tobacco. Floral. Honeydew melon. Leather chair. Metallic. Mineralic. Miso. OId wooden hull. Orange. Pear drops. Rooibos tea. Barber shop! Golden syrup.

The Dregs

Initial thoughts are that the Mizunara introduces itself very similarly to Paul Launois matured Ardnamurchan. There’s a rich, viscous effervescence to it, sherbet-like. I feel my mouth becoming energised. Lots of things to dissect. Richness is probably the main takeaway in the first few sips; thick flavours - fudge, cedarwood, heather honey, decadence.

A bit of time brings in the woodier aspects - plenty of cedar, plenty of toasted oak, but surprisingly also a big dose of old wood: bookcases, old wooden chests, sanding an old floor back. This woodiness begins to take control over the syrupy brightness, notching down to a point where it starts to present like an old whisky. That old wood flavour that I find in a lot of older whiskies, leathery, booky, that’s becoming more present.

There’s the definable mineralic, coastal Ardnamurchan character in spades too, the astringency of entry and the rocky metallic slant to the exit. Sandy, seaside, but a balance of salty sea spray, effervescing rich sweet unctuousness, and the old wood mixed with the freshly sawn cedar. I’ve never had an Ardnamurchan pass my lips that’s this woody before, and I suppose there’s a subliminal thing there, where it’s Mizunara - old oak, special oak, unique oak. Maybe that’s playing a part, but if there’s an abundance of wood notes, there’s an abundance of wood notes.

That’s why these casks are deployed, right? To give a spin on a base spirit. Well, the Mizunara is clearly here in big dollops, and alongside the tendency to find oak from a special oak cask, there’s also a lot of orange blossom, soft floral notes of summer wildflowers, melons and other summery things. Vegetal in parts, the ferns.

The ferns. I was explaining to Robert as we sipped our 30yo Imperial on Thursday night, that up here, and I’m sure elsewhere, just after it rains and the sun comes out with a good wind, the ferns give off a very potent leathery, bookbound scent. Leather armchair shops, that sort of thing. Ferns.

The colour of this whisky is similar to Paul Launois too, like Cask #90 - dark and vivid. I know now that this colour is “Burnished”, because I held my glass up to the Drammr app and matched them. So much fun. I never note a whisky’s colour, simply because it’s irrelevant to me in my opinion of whether a whisky is good or not. I suppose you can tell cask influence/aggression from colour vs age, but when it comes to colour bias, I don’t have it. Except when I see whisky this colour, and I wish it was all this colour. Like a shimmering setting sun inside my glass.

A few days later I find myself inside a rumbling, perpetual thunderstorm. It’s exhilarating watching the charged tendrilous fingers of white light scrabbling across the clay sky. The Hairy Bullet barks in confusion as the Crystal Ladies “ooh” and “ahh”. The supercharged air lends an extra level of fizz to the Mizunara. I find it more sweet and herbaceous tonight, with a leafy coriander strain in the nose, and a massively full palate - woods taking the lead once more. I stick my glass out in the rain, and let the electric drops dilute my dram.

Looking at my entry in the Drammr app, I see that the wheel of fortune summarising all my nose and palate notes, shows this whisky to be bigly sweet, similarly woody, almost as aromatic and fruity, with spice, grain, mineralic and savoury notes around the back. I agree with this summary, and commit my entry to the land of opinion. Magic!

Given a decent amount of time I can see this whisky transforming into something astonishingly good. If your style of whisky is syrupy, effervescently sweet and decadent, woody with loads of soft floral nuances, then this will be right up your street. It doesn’t feel at all youthful, none of the creamy vibrant tropicality of new-make here. Just another established, balanced, superbly interesting and downright delicious double-digit dram from the factory of dreams.

*Robert, the unassuming man who developed a fantastic whisky app, gifted it to the whisky world for free, asked nothing for in exchange, for no other reason than for it to exist.*

Score: 8/10

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC

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