In their wisdom, the distillers of Scotland invited our Bryan Abrams for a visit. Here’s his report:

Adventure travel has long been associated with physical exertion or deadly game.  Hang gliding or safari, mountain trekking or jungle walks...to be classified ‘adventure’, there must be some element of danger. Well, we need
to open our minds to a new, often more perilous type of adventure travel: the alcohol press trip.

Alcohol adventures are put on by spirit companies and manned by savvy publicity firms, all in the effort to create, or hammer home, brand loyalty. Unfortunately, I’m a born sucker for this type of travel, as I love alcohol.
This isn’t an impetuous, collegiate love (you can’t actually ‘love’ anything via funnel), but an adult, thoughtful, conscientious adoration. And when it comes to my relationship with booze, like most of you, I swing. Wine, beer, vodka, gin, absinthe, rum, port, sake, brandy, tequila; need I go on? It was only a few months ago I wrote in this very blog about a champagne ‘celebration’ in Paris, a party thrown by Perrier Jouët, in an event so insanely luxurious I was waiting for Louis XVI’s reanimated corpse to show up.
 

When I was invited to join a dozen or so journalists and a hundred or so guests in Speyside, Scotland, for The Glenlivet Gathering, I felt well prepared for the challenge.
 
On The Glenlivet’s site it’s called ‘the ultimate adventure for scotch whisky lovers’, and they weren’t lying. People from all over gather at in sunny Scotland (kidding) to sample (and sample, and sample) some of the best scotch whisky in the world with the people who brew, bottle, and market it.
 
Sure, a trip down the Congo could be intense, but try 72 straight hours of drinking nearly every variation of the whisky they make. Nadurra, a vanilla-scented dream in a glass. XXV, a regal, rare whisky that even Longshanks himself would have admired. Master brewer Jim Cryle and most of the Glenlivet team agreed their everyday favorite is the 18-year, a show-stopper whose flavors are subtle and lasting.  The 1969 Cellar Collection was history liquefied.  They spoke lovingly of the people who had worked on that particular vintage, and how many of them have passed on by now. As far as they’re concerned, two things happened in 1969, and the moon landing was of secondary import.
 
These glorious Scots combine everything with whisky: An evening with whisky on a steam train. A wake up call of whisky and cheese at 10 a.m. (coffee’s for suckers). Childhood and whisky. How, you ask? They siphon whisky from a 20-year old cask from an access point at the top called the ‘bung hole’? Adults giggled. Fashion and whisky (whisky and kilt). Self-assurance and whisky (whisky in a kilt without underwear) For the coordinated, whisky and dancing. For the studious, whisky in their library. For the curious,  multiple tours of the inner workings of the legendary distillery (they give you whisky while you walk). For the sleepy, a wee dram of the 12-year is placed on everyone’s bedside table. For the dreamers, whisky on the banks of the Loch Ness. There’s also golf, fly-fishing, hiking, and a cooking class. With whisky.
 
When you go hang gliding, they strap you in. But by the end of the trip, I was just barely hanging on.
 
(Factoid # 1 worth knowing that most people seemed to already know but me: ‘Single Malt’ means that it was made at one distillery, as opposed to ‘blended’ whisky, which can come from quite a few. The Glenlivet is a single malt, Chivas is a blended whisky.)
 
(Factoid # 2 worth knowing that most people will refuse to believe but me: There have been studies that show alcohol can even make you more intelligent. Seriously.  The moderate consumption of alcohol fosters nerve cell growth in the brain that helps with memory and learning. Yes, yes, there can be a downside (there’s always a downside), like alcoholism, but check this out if you don’t believe me.

If you’re interested in learning more yourself, or potentially signing up for next year’s gathering, check out the Glenlivet site.