It was Christmas 2002, and we were in Thailand. A friend had brought a yachting magazine out with him when he visited us from the UK. Brian had been reading it quietly in the cockpit, and he started to read out aloud. "The next Malt Whisky Cruise will take place in July 2003, starting in Oban (in Scotland) and taking in Skye and Mull. That sounds fun - shall we do it?"

At the time, I had sweat dripping off my nose as I attempted to prepare a meal, and the view from the galley windows was of palm trees dotted along a blisteringly hot sandy beach. I envisioned Scotland's lush green mountains and a slight chill in the air. At that point it seemed quite attractive, and with no more considered thought, I agreed.

So popular is the Malt Whisky cruise that it is always oversubscribed, and only the first crews who apply get a place, so there was little chance of us being called upon to actually do it. But Christmas lassitude and pure chance that we had seen the first advertisement for the event meant that our entry was accepted. We had six months to sail 8,500 miles to make the start. Only the Indian Ocean, the Gulf of Aden, the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, the Bay of Biscay, the English Channel and the Irish Sea, and we'd be there.

A lone piper leads the fleet out of Oban.

We made it, and it was worth every mile we put below our keel to get there. The West Coast of Scotland truly is one of the world's finest cruising areas. Whereas many parts of the world have one stunning anchorage, there we found a different one each night--each as impressive as the other.

There are deep lochs that snake their way inland for miles and offer complete protection from all but the enchanting wildlife. Sea otters chatter and fiddle with the day's catch, while seals stretch out on the rocks to sun themselves. Ancient castles stand guard over the anchorages, and walks ashore lead to hidden lochs.

But it was not all peace and tranquility. The cruise takes a triangular course to visit three malt whisky distilleries--Oban, Talisker, Lagavulin. At each, the crews are entertained to Scottish hospitality and an abundance of malt whisky. Special "nosings" (like wine tastings only you don't have to spit out the whisky) are arranged, and we were taught how to drink the precious liquid and how to distinguish between the various distilleries.

	Nosing aboard Theta Volantis.

The start was from Oban, and the opening events set the scene for the whole cruise. After a tour of the distillery, we were invited to return in the evening for a "wee dram". We learnt that far from the small drink implied by the term, it meant a full scale party. Whisky flowed like water, and a pipe band entertained while we gorged on delicious Scottish fare. Quite sensibly, when the time to close down the party arrived, the band marched down to the quay with all of us following like the Pied Piper's children. The whole town had turned out and we joined them on the quay to listen to the pipes before tipping into our dinghies to return to the boats. The next morning a lone piper on the bow of a yacht led us out of the harbour and on our way to the next stopover where we were due in four days' time. A plethora of anchorages awaited us en route.

Many boats' crews opted for a short sail to Tobermory (there seemed to have been an outbreak of hangovers) and were greeted by a waterfront of brightly coloured houses like a page from a child's colouring book. Those who could face another drink went to the Mish Nish Pub to listen to the poets who recite their work to anyone who will listen. We then headed for the fabulously impressive Loch Moidart. While anchored there, the official RIB came alongside and asked us if we'd be willing to host a nosing. How could we say no when we'd come so far? The crews of the other two yachts moored in the anchorage joined us, and Willy, the manager of the Oban distillery, took us through the process of nosing. First a lot of swirling around the glass goes on, looking for the "legs" (the fingers of spirit which cling to the glass--fine legs mean a light malt, thick legs a heavy one). Then, as the expression "nosing" suggests, a certain amount of sniffing follows. Fiinally, we get down to the sipping--first straight, then with a drop of water. Even for those of us who were not regular whisky drinkers, it was surprising how easy it was to distinguish between the different Malts, and a drop of water (perfectly acceptable, don't let anyone tell you otherwise--especially if it is Highland spring water) transforms the taste again.

	Theta Volantis anchored in the awe-inspiring Loch Moidart.

Getting in to Loch Moidart had been a challenge in itself, so the reward of a drop of whisky was much appreciated, if only for medicinal purposes to steady the nerves. The entrance is a double dogleg, through submerged and just-awash rocks, requiring close attention to leading lines and the echo sounder. Once inside, we found the Loch threads a lazy course into the mountains, and we anchored under a wonderful C13th castle. It's abandoned now, of course, but it retains a ghostly splendor. It is a truly idyllic spot, and after the whisky nosing it seemed even more ethereal.

Next stop was to be the Isle of Skye and the Talisker distillery. (See Part Two next week.)