Visiting my first Scottish Whisky distillery

Ever since it became evident that I would go to Scotland, I knew that I had to visit at least one of the many distilleries that are abundant here. Sadly it soon became clear that due to the deficient public transport here, I wouldn't be able to visit the most famous ones. Every distillery that is situated East or particularly North East from me would require me to first travel to Inverness and from there via Elgin and Keith to Aberdeen, where I could only then venture inland again, averaging a time of four hours per trip. Not something that I genuinely fancied, let me tell you...

Luckily there was still 10% left West of my position, of which exactly three were in my direct vicinity, giving me ample distilleries between I could choose.
Possibly and most likely unsurprising to everyone, I, of course, chose the one that was most nearby and actually posted their adress online.
Let me elaborate on this, there was one smaller distillery that was a fair bit closer, but claimed on their webpage ''If you can find us, you'll have earned yourself a private tour, free of charge''. And for some inexplicable reason they had apperently forgotten to post their exact adress underneath..

Not wanting to waste my very, very, very valuable time searching, possibly in vain, for this distillery, I chose to temporarely ignore this one and move on to the next one, situated in Dalwhinnie and bearing the same name as the town. I had booked my ticket online the previous night, something I can recommend everyone planning on visiting Scotland in the future to do (I mean it), since booking a trip where you'll return on the same day in advance will save you up to 40% of your money!
The following morning the only thing that I was required to do was to pick up my ticket at the train station, completely free of charge. Feels absolutely wonderful.

I got up ealy the next day and made myself some breakfast. At about 09.00 I started to walk to Nethy Bridge, so that I could take the bus to Aviemore. As it turned out, I didn't have time to see what Aviemore was like because the bus was scheduled to arrive ten minutes before my train would leave, which didn't leave me with a whole lot of time to have a look around.

So I got on the train and could pretty much sit wherever I wanted this time. This made me feel way better than when I had to alternate seats every station on my way to Aviemore from Edinburgh. After about 20 minutes I got off at possibly the smallest train station that I've ever seen, but nevertheless, I had arrived at Dalwhinnie. The station was well proportioned with the rest of the town, because that too was nothing more than a road with some houses. After a couple of minutes of pointlessly wandering around, I made my way towards the Distillery. Impossible to miss; it's the only building that'll fit more than three people and a goat, plus there's the gigantic sign that says Dalwhinnie, but that's not important. The sheer size of the distillery made for an impressive sight, especially when compared to the miniscule houses of the town. But what really stood out was the whiteness of the walls, an unnatural sight in the rough and mountainous surroundings.

After a short walk, I found myself at the entrance, I walked up to the visitor's center and immediately stole one of each brochure that they had on display, don't ask, it makes for excellent lesson materials.
I signed up for the earliest tour and had the oppertunity to have a look around in the visitor's center. After fifteen minutes the tour started off with a very cheery fellow named Greg. Greg took us to the door where he sadly made the announcement that taking pictures inside was not allowed, so sadly no pictures.

Once he was assured that we had all shut off our phones, we were let inside where he started the real tour, this was a very detailed story that lasted the whole tour and took about forty-five minutes. In those forty-five minutes he kindly explained the painstakinly long and difficult process of making whisky, of which I only remember half, I'm afraid.
The tour ended with a dram of their best-known single malt that tasted amazing, and a free glass. But even after I treated myself to a small bottle, because I'd fallen in love with the smooth taste of this particular whisky.

After leaving the distillery I still had some time left before my train was destined to arrive, so I made the best of the situation and went to explore beyond the borders of the little town. I went on towards Loch Ericht, which took me across gigantic meadows where was very capable of making myself believe that no man had ever set foot there before. The loch made for a spectacular view, the sun hit it just right and especially the mountain ranges to frame the Loch made it all the much better. I wandered the coast of the Loch for nearly an hour, before the time came for me to turn around and take the forest route back towards the station.
This proved to be significantly shorter, because I arrived fifteen minutes earlier than I'd expected and I had planned to arrive roughly ten minutes early to be certain not to miss the train. So this gave me just under half an hour, twenty-five for everyone that was unable to put the two together, in which I decided to lunch at the local hostel/restaurant, the only building besided the distillery that might have fitted three people and a goat. I had a wonderful burger and a coffee there and chatted with the staff for a bit before the time came for me to head over to the train station.
Once there, I took my train and got out at Aviemore station about twenty minutes later.

The problem here was, I'd have to wait for nearly an hour and a half before I could get back on the bus towards Nethy Bridge. Not so much of a problem because this just gave me another oppertunity to explore Aviemore a bit further. But exciting as this prospect seemed, the hike that took me nearly two hours had exhausted me and left me with little energy to walk about some more. I ventured past some of the shops, visited the bookshop and had a pint at the pub. Here I spoke with the girl behind the bar and I learned that now was the time when Aviemore actually saw people, just after the summer holidays was apparently the busiest time of year, only contested by the winter season, when all tourists would come over to enjoy the slopes all around the national park. This explained why most of the people around were either British or even American and not the expected Scotts. Shortly after I caught my bus back towards Nethy Bridge and from there walked back to The Lazy Duck. Once I was back started cooking, all of this walking around and sipping whisky had really taken its toll on me. I had a lovely homemade meal and had a pint with Torstin before heading off to bed shortly after.