2023 Release | 57.1% ABV

Creating core memories enrobed in whisky

In the slowly fading light, between the sheets of rain and the surge of the waves, a red light flashes short and bright. With unwavering regularity it broadcasts a simple message: pass on port, or forever curse your ignorance.

Along the western coast of Scotland there are many lights atop tall granite columns burning brightly, somewhere. Eigg. Rum. Skye. Mull. Ardnamurchan. In times gone by, these sentinels of the sea stood guard in places of grave concern, protecting and guiding sailors; with grim solitude and sacrifice solely in service to the lives of those brave enough to helm upon the treacherous tides, did the people inside work day and night to keep the light burning.

Nowadays that isolated way of living, a lifetime commitment rewarded only with humble thanks and an etched mantlepiece clock, has been usurped by the unrelenting progress of technology and with it, stripping from strong, weathered hands, the traditions of centuries in keeping light. Through the gathering mists of time the foghorns, painted bright red and shaped with bell curved perfectly for projection, have stood on the edge of rugged stone, ready to sound the low guttural tone of warning: peril lies beneath this blanket of grey. The vast, towering arrays of heavy polished glass, of multiple orders and refractive beauty whose presence commanded respect through sheer power of their magnification, have been replaced by small yellow squares of size no bigger than a shoebox.

For hours I have gazed over the Sound of Sleat and imagined heroic ventures of the mariner, in an age before satellites circled our skies; how brave they must have been to endure the raw and unforgiving power of the great seas knowing that, in all but a distracted second, all souls aboard could be lost to the deep. Fortified nerves, robust knowledge and masterful seamanship kept ships afloat where others would founder, and the beaming beacons of hope, introduced and innovated over the course of two centuries, made sure that in proximity to certain death the reaper's duties were obscured by blinding light.

How sad it is to think that these monumental torches no longer house beating hearts or mechanical wonder, instead the beeps and pings of an internet age made efficient by networks of cables tracing the sandy beds of the ocean floor. I would have loved to have been a keeper of light, if only I possessed a procedural brain. For my sins I have been bestowed with one filled only with jumble; I'd get distracted by the view out the window and forget to turn the mechanical handle tasked with raising the central weight that kept spinning in beds of mercury the mammoth lens array; many lives would be risked, including mine when I returned home with P45 in hand to an apoplectic wife. It took an attitude of unwavering devotion to be a Light Keeper.

As I look out through this misting windscreen at the brightening glow of the red channel marker, the accompanying dram in my hand should be sorely out of place - this is a summer sunshine whisky and right now neither of those boxes are being ticked - summer in Scotland this year, from a jetstream struggling to make it northwards as expected, is decidedly cold and wet. Yet still this whisky works. We are in the final throes of our seven-day voyage in a motorhome, part of an acid test to see if camper life is for us. It’s always been our dream to live on the west coast of Scotland and over the past few years we’ve been edging closer to doing it. This camper van trip was supposed to expose our abilities to endure each other’s company for long enough to invest in a van ourselves, but instead has exposed once again the glaringly obvious: our hearts belong out here permanently.

I brought this bottle with me, alongside one other and many samples to both analyse it properly for this review, but also to try and make it the whisky woven around the memories of our holiday - whenever I drink this I want to be transported back to the west. It’s a special bottle by default anyway - getting hold of this whisky each year is a task but, thanks to the grace and generosity of Aberdeen Whisky Shop, I was afforded the chance to buy one, alongside the sherry cask release; I had managed to get one into my basket when they were made available online, and make it to checkout before it was snatched away from me at the very last second - my postcode not matching my billing address caused the five-second delay that would see me scuppered. Yes, that’s how quickly these bottles went; mere seconds to appear and disappear, replaced with two depressing words: “Sold out”.

Not one to sit and look at unopened bottles on shelves, this bottle of Ardnamurchan Paul Launois was popped and tried before we set off on our holiday and confirmed to be a potential banger, but the overwhelming majority of this bottle has been enjoyed as we wheeled our way around the chilly climes of Loch Linnhe, Fort Augustus, Glenshiel, Eilean Donan castle, Armadale, Mallaig, Silversands, Arisaig, Fort William, Bunree just south of the Corran Ferry, Oban, Lochgilphead, Inverary, Tyndrum and home. This trip, beyond what was reasonable, generated some proper core memories.

The tour guide at Eilean Donan castle engaged with my eight-year-old daughter after she blew his mind by knowing what a portcullis is, and subsequently showed her some pretty cool, off-the-radar things including looking through the spy holes hidden in walls, used to monitor the goings on inside the banquet room (the walls have ears), and a portrait with unlaced shoes that follow you around the room. Having her name hollered across the courtyard by the tour guide and turning to see him waving frantically so that he could say cheerio to her, made my daughter’s day, and arguably made her trip - she still talks about him today.

Driving down through the mizzling rain of the Isle of Skye, passing Torabhaig and marvelling at its beautiful location before wandering around Armadale ferry port, finding a book called For the Safety of All by Donald S. Murray in the wee gift shop, and then chancing my arm and asking the ferry staff if we could nip onto an earlier crossing; catching a pod of dolphins leaping from the water in the Sound of Sleat as we chugged over on the ferry and watching as Mrs Crystal choked back tears at having seen nature at play. Would we have seen this on our later voyage? A core memory added to all our brains.

Being in the right place at the right time to catch the Arisaig Highland Games, every year launched by the head honcho of Clan Ranald on the last Wednesday in July - the day we happened to be camped immediately across from the entrance gates at Silversands Campsite - and Ardnamurchan Distillery being the main sponsor for the games with tent and many staff in attendance. What are the chances? Sales director and professional fun-maker Connal Mackenzie was there too, alongside sales executive and giant pool noodle Carl Crafts and Antonia Bruce, elegant as ever.

The day at the games was one of the warmest and sunniest on our trip, with the sun splitting the sky from sunrise to sunset, and nothing was more memorable than watching Connal and Carl, two ends of the height spectrum, enter into the barrel race in a somewhat tender frame, thanks to the previous evening’s frivolities denting their sporting prowess. It all came to a head when Connal, at maximum velocity, rolled over the tumbling heavy oak cask, head first. Carl struggled to hide his amusement, as did the whole onlooking crowd - they still won that round of the event though, owing to their competitor’s cask careering into the crowd to ripples of gasps around the arena. Connal really hurt himself too, tearing his inner thigh on the ragged steel rings around the cask, which was a real shame but it didn’t stop anyone in the games from hooting with laughter at his misfortune. Luckily for him I got a photo of it.

Our homeward journey saw us pitch up at our final campsite at Bunree on a dreich day filled with fleeting bursts of sunshine, and is where I find myself now, staring into the bleak evening with a dram of Paul Launois in my glass and half the bottle dispatched.

I’ve watched the sun set over the Atlantic horizon between the Isles of Rum and Skye with this whisky. I’ve sat looking out onto pristine white sands atop sun-warmed volcanic gneiss with this whisky. My goal of weaving this into my core memories seems to have been successful, but after all is said and done, is it any good?

Review

Release of 2,676 bottles worldwide, 57.1% ABV
£70-75 - This bottle: ADPL0623 #20 / 2,676

I’ve been fortunate enough to have tried the inaugural batch - 04:21 - enough to know that Paul Launois releases are unique and worth a bit of effort to acquire. I lost out on the follow up despite chasing - 06:22 - but months later fell into possession of one through a mutual whisky exciter and uber-generous whisky chaser. This year’s - 06:23 - was more fervently chased by everyone, including me, than ever before because the secret is out: Ardnamurchan matured in Paul Launois casks does something to their whisky that elevates it to something entirely unique. I’m not ashamed to say that on the day of release I spent 30 seconds of every minute scanning the internet for bottles appearing - which is why my at-the-death loss of the Aberdeen cart was doubly disappointing.

Last year’s was a whisky that I placed high expectations upon and, under scrutiny, found it endearing yet quite a bit sharper than I recall the previous year’s release being. I have periodically turned to it, usually after a bout of other Ardnamurchan whiskies, to see how it compared over the course of what would turn out to be more than a year. Each time I would be reminded of how excellent it was, with the sharp edge seeming to round off over time enough to bring it back from the overtly hot and sour.

Earlier this year I was extremely lucky and fortunate enough to take a whizz around the warehouse with Connal and sampled, from a particular cask of Paul Launois that he’d identified as falling into his own scrupulous “casks of excellence” bracket - things that demand to be bottled as is. It was incredible and prompted the question: why don’t you take this and bottle it separately? Every cask was required for the next Paul Launois blend was the answer, to try and get as much of it out into the world as possible. This cask, which Connal himself saw as unique would be, and was, lost in the process of blending with the other casks sitting alongside it - one of the few unfortunate things that occur in whisky when dealing with such an interesting partnership and experiment.

One thing I’m really excited to see the results of, is a sort of inception style back and forth: whisky matured in an ex-Champagne cask that’s decanted, casks sent back to France to be filled with Champagne which is matured, decanted and then sent back for a second fill of whisky. It’ll be interesting to try the Champagne that’s been matured in ex-Ardnamurchan casks too.

By this point I feel like I’ve tasted enough Ardnamurchan and Paul Launois to scope this latest release out and see how it fares versus not just the previous batches, but Ardnamurchan whisky too - what makes Paul Launois so popular? What about this year’s release makes the crew at the distillery shake their head and marvel at how wonderful it is? At £73 a bottle, is it value for money, worth the chase, worth the disappointment when inevitably they’re snapped up through luck, ballots and right-place-right-time happenstance?

Nose

Bright lights. Almost yellow apple, tart grape of white wine. Sweet, zingy boiled sweets.Great wood note - sweet freshly sawn cedar and oak mixed together - bright, fresh and light brown. “Nice” savoury sweet biscuits - Hovis brown crackers in a multi-cracker box. Salty sweet. Peppery spice - sweet pepper. Petrichor. White pepper pot. Herbal peppery plant. A gherkin appears. Sour, pickle, Plastic wendy house. Fresh espresso.

Palate

Sweet peppery, salty savoury, touch of edam! For some reason visions of dusk/twilight garden party with fairy lights and fresh summer air, whisps of wood and maybe a cigar. Hint of vulcanised rubber. Flash of something metallic before a big wave of enrobing sweet cedar wood. Long finish with reds and browns - cherry, oak, salty magic. Those weird blue and magenta jelly pucks covered in tiny balls inside a Liquorice Allsorts packet.

The Dregs

This year the Champagne casks have done something to reduce the tartness enough that it retains the coastal character of Ardnamurchan whisky, yet still has a quite fantastic bright, glowing, zesty-yet-richly yeasty white wine component. Unlike last year’s release, this never feels like it tips over into the overtly sour spectrum of citrus, keeping just the right side of zingy. Sometimes this fresh note presents as a permanent marker, other times a perfectly balanced lime. Beneath flows the persistently salty coastal beauty of Ardnamurchan’s spirit, lending both the salted caramel sweetness, but also the rocky, mineralic earthiness.

I fear I’ve been spoiled a little bit too much, spending time in the warehouse with Connal and Carl. I’ve sampled some mind-blowing whisky from cask and, despite this being superb whisky in this, our golden age of the uisge beatha, the Paul Launois 2023 is not quite as spectacular as some things maturing inside the Ardnamurchan warehouses, or of things already released. It is undeniably, unequivocally a whisky to savour with a unique niche of bright zesty, meaty robustness. But alongside something like the latest Aberdeen single cask exclusive, it doesn’t stand poles apart, but rather alongside. Against the UK Exclusive CK.339 released in 2021, it doesn’t stand poles apart, but rather alongside. Against the sherry cask release, it does stand apart - but that’s because the SCR is a different animal altogether, as I hope to show.

I say all that to say this - while it’s blowing some minds, it hasn’t blown mine, not in the way the single cask Paul Launois sample did, or the row of ex-Adelphi casked Ardnamurchan we found on our travels in the warehouse. It’s special. But is it exceptional? Just shy. It fails to properly combust on account of my own perspective of things I’ve tried from Glenbeg. I know many of you won’t have been as incredibly lucky as me and won’t possess the same scope of references I’m using to position this whisky, but I have to be honest. I have to be fair. I bet some of you might have thought I’d mark this a 9 or 10 but I need to save those landmark awards for things that truly warp the landscape of new-wave whisky, isolated from hype, difficulty to obtain or how many elbows were extended in the pursuit. I know for a fact it’s coming. I see it on the horizon. But not yet.

Score: 8/10

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

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