tl;dr summary - A thoroughly enjoyable malt whose positive impression might have been exaggerated by the low expectations I entered the experience with. Fruit, gentle oak, pepper spice, and an unexpectedly long and enjoyable finish from a whisky whose proof would have you expecting the exact opposite. A malt that holds its own with others at its retail price point, but exponentially outperforms at its clearance-sale price point.
In a previous professional lifetime, I spent a significant chunk of time in the great northern state of Alaska. Due to the nature of the work, my colleagues and I were dispatched to distant corners of that wild state for long stretches of time, each trip typically lasting three to six weeks. While Anchorage is certainly a modern city by any measure, it only served as a layover point for our travels - a place where the large 757 or 767s that shepherded us from the 'Lower 48' deposited us and where the small Dash-8s then whisked us off to our remote final destinations.
A colleague and dear friend of mine once remarked that the parts of Alaska we were visiting were as close to going back in time as is possible. Indeed, during my years of travel up north, departing Anchorage also meant a departure from cellphone service and broadband Internet connectivity. So secluded were our final destinations, that our typical living accommodations were only connected to the civilized world by a dirt road and an emergency-use-only satellite phone.
It is a staggeringly beautiful state; huge mountain ranges running straight to the sea - as though Colorado was situated directly on the Pacific Ocean. While my colleagues and I deployed to one of three possible regions in Alaska, I spent the lion's share of my time in two of the three. One was south of Anchorage and coastal. The other was north of Anchorage and a bit more tundra.
It should be noted that we typically visited in the winter months - when the sun would rise at 11ish in the morning and set a few hours later by 2ish in the afternoon. Weather-wise, the coastal location was capable of wildly variant conditions, but the overwhelming majority of days were cold, windy, and rainy. Often times, the rain was more horizontal than vertical and you had a coin flip's chance of the rain crossing over to snow and sticking to the ground. The tundra location on the other hand was more stable in terms of weather, but it was an order of magnitude colder than the coastal location. It was here that I experienced what double-digit negative temperatures, ambient, not wind-chill adjusted, feel like (spoiler alert - <expletive> cold). There was no coin-flip in the tundra - if precipitation was in the forecast, it was automatically snow that not only stuck to the ground, but piled high and wide.
The work in Alaska was typically stressful - ambitious goals were typically accompanied by even more ambitious deadlines. One of the Big Dogs (I'd say the biggest dog at one point in time) of the whole Alaska project used to tell all the worker bees how lucky we were to be working where we were. "Y'all should be thanking me, one day you'll be sitting around a fireplace telling your grand children all about your wild Alaskan adventures" he'd proclaim, particularly when we'd begin to gripe about time away from home.
With hindsight, I can say the Big Dog was indeed correct on that count. I often find myself reflecting back on those Alaskan days and nights with fond memories. Granted, memories tend to filter out a lot of the stress and angst one actually felt at the time, but the work was particularly satisfying. Meeting those ambitious goals (not necessarily the deadlines) always resulted in a tremendous sense of satisfaction for the whole team. And speaking of the team, many of my colleagues became far more than just co-workers, they are people I developed a great deal of personal and professional respect for. Despite most of us now being scattered across different projects and companies, we remain in contact, we remain friends, often gathering to share a meal, a frosty libation, and talk about what's both new and old in our respective lives.
I take this reminiscent detour because the whisky I am currently enjoying comes from the second-most northern distillery in Scotland - Scapa. A half-mile to the north of Scapa lies Scotland's northern-most distillery - Highland Park. Both distilleries call Orkney home and the Scapa distillery is located at a whopping 58.964 degrees of north latitude. For comparison, the most northerly Alaskan location I worked from, the tundra location, was 58.740 degrees North, a mere ~15.5 miles difference (spherical distance in latitude only). Researching and digging into Scapa, pictures of both the distillery as well as Orkney have stirred plenty of nostalgic feelings in me - from a terrain perspective, Orkney looks damn near identical to what I experienced in Alaska.
Established in 1885, Scapa remained in operation until 1994. For ten years, the distillery sat unused and and appeared to be heading for demolition. Instead, in 2004 then-owners Pernod Ricard decided to rebuild and reopen the distillery and whisky began to flow again shortly thereafter. By production output standards, Scapa is a small distillery - just two stills (one wash, one spirit) and ~1 million liters of annual output. For comparison, Glenfiddich operates 32 stills yielding ~13 million liters of output. All of this to say it's not surprising that Scapa only offers one official label, a non-age stated expression named 'Skiren'.
What I am enjoying is not officially offered by Scapa. Instead it is offered by the independent bottling company Gordon & MacPhail. The label for this particular malt indicates the whisky in my possession was bottled in 2015, which means it was distilled in 2005, shortly after Scapa's reopening. My understanding is that Gordon & MacPhail purchased this whisky as new-make spirit and had it barreled into a barrel of their choosing. From here, the details are a bit murky as Gordon & MacPhail claim their barrels can be aged either at the source distillery or in warehouses owned by Gordon & MacPhail in the UK.
Regardless, it is important to note that while this is certainly Scapa whisky, it might, and most likely does, taste different than the official bottling of Scapa. This is the allure of independently bottled whisky - unique twists on well-established favorites can often be found. There is a risk of course that the independent offering falls short of the official offering, but this in my experience is rare. To date, for me, independently bottled malts have been whiskies that are comparable to their official counterparts in terms of quality but different in overall experience, think a bit more herbal or a bit sweeter. If you are a fan of a particular distillery, I'd recommend giving an independent offering from that distillery a shot, especially if the independent is bottled at a higher proof than the official offering.
As for this specific bottle, it's a bottle that I have seen sitting on the shelf of a local store for at least two years. My personal curiosity was piqued when I first saw the bottle, knowing the malt hailed from a remote distillery that not only happened to be in close geographical proximity to a personal favorite distillery, but whose location tapped into a strong sense of personal nostalgic lore. Two critiques kept me from purchasing through the years: 1) it was bottled at a standard 43% ABV and 2) the retail price was a lofty $63.99. On a recent Oktoberfest beer hunting trip however I noticed the bottle had been placed on the clearance table with a too-good-to-pass-up price of $32.00; there was no saying 'no' at that price. So how did the bargain-basement find fare? Impression time.
Nose
Green Apple, white grapes, vanilla, peach, watermelon candies. An A+ nose - definitely not a mega-aged malt, its youthfulness is apparent, but so too is a myriad of delightfully pleasant aromas. If only other 'younger' malts had this aroma.
Taste
Crisp, clean, gentle chili spice. Fruit and grain, mild sweetness. Gentle oak, zero char. No prickle or alcohol harshness. Unlike its Orkney neighbor (Highland Park), not a trace of peat to be found. There are no rough edges here, I'd feel safe in saying this malt spent ten years in a quality barrel with minimal shortcuts taken during its maturation.
Finish
Medium length finish nudging towards long. Zero astringency/tannic drying. Warm chili spice tingle. Gentle oak, more oak on the finish than the smell/taste. Shocking how long this finish is given its 43% strength.
Overall
Straight away, I'll say this is far more tasty and enjoyable than I was expecting for a 10-year 43% malt. I find very little to complain about here - it is a quintessential Scotch whisky experience to me - barley, grain, a bit of sweetness, gentle oak, and a crisp, clean, straightforward taste. Offering up a pure guess, I'd say this whisky was matured in an ex-bourbon cask as there are zero traces of sherry notes or that 'twang' I get from European/French oak. This whisky is proof that long maturation periods are not mandatory for a quality experience. I get the sense that both the distillate and the barrel were produced in accordance to lofty quality standards. This whisky left me profusely wondering why other 43% whiskies cannot deliver such an outstanding experience in smell, taste, and finish... Well done Scapa and Gordon & MacPhail!
