Glass act: 'Godfather' Bill Lark fought for small-scale distillers.
A sweet, malty storm is brewing amid the apples, served not in a teacup but neat in a glass, writes Ben Stubbs.
The smells of wood and smoke fill the room. Mark Littler holds a glass in front of his nose and sloshes the amber liquid around before sipping. I follow his lead and feel the oily residue coat my tongue before the whisky hits my taste buds. It's smooth and tastes of vanilla and oak, and I resist the urge to drain the rest of the glass.
I am on a whisky trail, though I am not on the isles of Scotland or exploring the distilleries of Ireland; I am in Burnie, on the north-west coast of Tasmania, to follow the route of the single malts that are gaining an international reputation for their quality.
The first stop on my whisky trail is Hellyers Road Distillery, on a ridge overlooking Burnie and Bass Strait in one direction and the Dial Ranges in the other. I am taking the whisky walk with general manager and whisky maker Littler and as we enter the bond store (where the casks are kept) an aroma fills my pores.
"The smell is from the spirit interacting with the wood," Littler says. Hellyers Road employs 20 distillery workers and is the biggest producer in Tasmania. Littler walks me through the distillery full of grain mashers, silos, a 40,000-litre fermenter and stainless steel vats. The vatting and marrying of the malt whisky in Tasmania is done in casks; this is labour-intensive and it's not generally done any more in Scotland.
At the end of the tour, I am able to select a port cask that has matured and I pour my own bottle. I seal it with wax before continuing on to the restaurant for a tasting to complement the whisky beef burger and whisky ice-cream I order for lunch.
There is a now a "boutique footprint of distillers in Tasmania", Littler tells me as I leave, and I head into the highlands to continue the discovery. Through the centre of Tasmania I drive up Highland Lakes Road past craggy mountains, steel-coloured lakes and white fields of dry grass. If anywhere reminds me of Scotland, this is it.
I turn off a dirt road outside Bothwell to the Nant Distillery. I follow a stream to the old sandstone flour mill that was built in 1823. The milling wheel ticks over with the flow of the water and I meet Anthony White, the whisky maker. White walks me through the old distillery past the wooden flour grinder and the wall of single-cask whiskies.
Nant only bottles from single casks, so each cask is different. I see people's names on the casks; they've been pre-bought by enthusiasts as they mature.
White shows me the copper stills that produce 12 to 14 barrels a week and I look out the window to the Clyde River - the source of their water. We try an American-oak port cask at 43 per cent. It is smoky and rich. We continue with a cask-strength sherry and an American-oak bourbon cask and as White swirls he can't remember if this is cask "30 or 32", such is the personalised touch of these whisky makers.
The Tasmanian whisky story began in Hobart, 70 kilometres away. At the Lark Distillery Whisky Bar and Cafe, on Davey Street, I meet the "godfather" of whisky in Tasmania, Bill Lark, over a glass of Lark Distiller's Selection.
Thomas Haigh Midwood started Van Diemen's Land's first licensed distillery in 1822 and 15 others began distilling until it was outlawed once again in 1838. Lark wanted to tap into the abundant resources and perfect conditions for Tasmania's revival of single-malt whisky. He was instrumental in getting the legislation changed in 1992 to allow small-scale distilling once again. Lark Distillery now distils 10 to 12 barrels a month using some of the best fortified casks in Australia.
The Larks have continued the reliance on local materials, not only by using Derwent River water and Tasmanian barley; Lark also has his own peat bog in the central highlands that gives his whisky a thick, smoky flavour. "Age statements on bottles are far more about marketing than quality," Bill says. "You need to know about the barrel, the size and how long it's been used to mature whisky."
The small-cask approach of Tasmania's distillers allows them a much greater influence on the subtleties of the whisky and a personal touch that is more valuable than a simple claim that a 21-year-old whisky is automatically superior to a 10-year-old.
Bill also notes that the whisky drinkers he meets are changing: "It's no longer just old blokes." On his tours he gets young men and women who spend up to four days learning the process with him. Lark hopes that maybe one day Tasmania will be known as "the whisky isle".
The next stop on my whisky tour is a suburban garage just outside Hobart. The Overeem port-cask-matured whisky received a score of 95 in Jim Murray's Whisky Bible and the 2012 World of Whisky's "whisky of the year", outshining many international distillers, so I'm a little surprised at how casual the set-up is. Jane Overeem, the whisky maker's daughter, shows me their copper still (which produces one barrel a week) and we sit down for a tasting. There are no yellow lines and audio tours here; it is personal and just like chatting to a friend over a drink. Copper pot stills are vital for the removal of sulphites, the secret to soft and smooth whisky, Overeem tells me. At Sullivans Cove in Cambridge, whisky maker Patrick Maguire takes me through his process and we slip past the barrels with a "spirit thief" syringe sucking up drops of various whiskies in his warehouse. Patrick received a 96.5 for his rare Tasmanian single cask, one of the best in the world, yet the whole operation is remarkably humble. He insists that he produces an "old-fashioned style of whisky where the colour, viscosity and flavour remain" while he tastes, alters and adapts the process by hand as he goes, ensuring the quality of every batch.
For my final tasting I drive out to the Tasman Peninsula through the bones of the trees and the charred remains of the bushfires from summer.
Through the bush and up the sides of Mount Arthur, I meet Bill McHenry. We look out to Storm Bay and he tells me that he was a "corporate refugee" and he wanted a change. He discovered that an ancestor was a distiller on the Isle of Skye and he wanted to revisit this part of his family's history so he created Australia's southernmost distillery, at 43 degrees south. McHenry's distillery is unique: he has his own spring that he uses for the water, and we walk through the bush to the bubbling source of his whisky hidden in-between blue gums and ferns. I sit with McHenry as he "makes the cut" and finds the "heart" of the spirit to be used in his whisky. The wind picks up and the rain falls, and there's nothing else to do other than sit and look out to the distant mountains and the wet hills and savour the whisky. You could be forgiven for thinking we were in Scotland.
Ben Stubbs travelled with assistance from Tourism Tasmania.
FAST FACTS
Getting there Virgin Australia flies from Sydney and Melbourne to Hobart. See virginaustralia.com. If you prefer to drive your own car (you'll need one), the Spirit of Tasmania ferry is the best option. For sailing and accommodation details, see spiritoftasmania.com.au.
Touring there To follow the whisky trail, drop in at the Tourism Tasmania counter in Hobart on Davey Street; see discovertasmania.com.au.
Staying there In Hobart, the Hotel Collins is perfectly located for visiting the Lark Distillery without having to drive. They have parking available, an on-site restaurant and a guest laundry. See hotelcollins.com.au.
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