The Whisky Train Railway Walks with Julia Bradbury

Britain is a country that owes a great deal to its rail empire.

For 100 years, the railways dominated the development of this country -

the network that supported a global super power.

But today, our island is home to 10,000 miles

of disused lines - a silent network of embankments, platforms and viaducts.

For me, and many others, they have become a perfect platform for exploring the country on foot.

Welcome to the banks of the River Spey - Scotland's second longest river, and certainly one of its

most famous. People flock from far and wide to fish for salmon in these pure waters.

This is where the Fiddich meets the Spey - two rivers at the heart of one of the world's great drinks.

My railway walk has a very distinct flavour to it.

With the river and the Scottish hills for company, it promises to be a very scenic day out.

But this is fundamentally a walk through the core of a very Scottish industry.

This is whisky territory, and today I'm going to find out how a scenic riverside railway

helped turn a really local industry into big business on a global scale.

By the mid-1800s, the River Spey already featured a number of distilleries along its course.

But as railway mania took hold in north-east Scotland, there was an obvious opportunity for expansion.

The cities of Aberdeen, Inverness and Perth were slowly becoming better connected,

and for the whisky industry, it was the arrival of

the Strathspey Railway in 1863 that really made a difference.

New distilleries soon opened up next door to the railway,

which offered great access to Glasgow and Edinburgh.

This is where single malts could be blended and distributed across the UK

and far beyond.

Starting from the remains of Craigellachie station, I'm going to be following

part of the Speyside Way, one of Scotland's great walking trails.

And through this section, the trail sticks firmly to the path of the Strathspey Railway.

But even at this early hour of the day, there's the prospect of trying out some of the local tipple.

550!

It would take me, oh, two hours to go through those.

But with 12 miles still to go, it's best not to get distracted

too early, so let's take a look at the route I'll be following.

From Craigellachie, the Strathspey Railway headed south, taking as straight a line

as possible, while the river meanders its way up the valley.

The only sizeable town en route is Aberlour -

a name well-known to whisky lovers.

Upstream, the railway crossed open farmland

and passed close to the oldest distillery on my route at Dailuaine.

Crossing the Spey, I'll reach the village of Carron, once a bustling community beside the

railway, but now a rather quiet spot sat beside the boarded-up buildings of the old Imperial Distillery.

But whisky certainly hasn't gone away from these parts.

Knockando and Tamdhu are both alive and well, despite the ghostly nature of their stations.

The river and the railway both turn due south for a final long run to Ballindalloch Station.

This takes me into the estate of the MacPherson-Grant family.

They've been connected with whisky since the railway first opened.

There's one more crossing of the Spey to reach the station of Ballindalloch.

This is where the local populous arrived by train to party long into the night at the Granary Ball.

Now, Craigellachie Station was just over there, and no visit to Craigellachie is complete

without a visit to this bridge, built by one Thomas Telford before anyone had even dreamt of a railway.

When this bridge was built, Napoleon was still tearing up Europe and Beethoven was still composing.

Looking down from above is like a window into the transport history of this country.

Materials for the revolutionary cast-iron bridge were brought in

by river and canal - the great transport arteries of their day.

But since 1812, Telford's bridge, the railway, and most recently

the new road bridge, have all enjoyed their period of dominance.

And since the arrival of the railway, there's been

no escaping the influence of whisky in Craigellachie.

Surrounded by the Spey and the Fiddich,

the village has two distilleries and the distinctive site of Scotland's biggest cooperage.

100,000 oak barrels are processed here every year -

most of them acquired second-hand from the American bourbon industry.

As I reach my first great bend in the Spey, there's also a very rare tunnel -

one of only four on the whole Great North Of Scotland network.

We are still right under the main road, but you can barely hear the traffic any more.

You can hear the whisper of the river.

They really had to squeeze the railway in here.

They cut through the hill and used this massive wall to hold it back.

This wall now acts as a support wall for the main road as well.

The old railway then enters one of those familiar long, straight sections -

an avenue of trees that seems to go on and on.

The undergrowth at this time of year is dense,

and in this enclosed world, there's just the odd surviving piece of railway history to keep you company.

The mileposts tell you how far you are from the local hub of Aberdeen -

a fact probably more useful to train drivers than to me.

The long straight brings me to the outskirts of Aberlour,

a town that balances its whisky credentials with a quite different consumable product - shortbread.

It was here on the main street that Joseph Walker opened his local bakery.

For well over 100 years the business has expanded, now being managed by a fourth generation of Walkers.

But one thing has remained constant -

it's the local residents who get to test any new biscuit products.

That was Aberlour train station, but now it is a visitor centre for the Speyside Way and a tearoom!

But this is the building I'm interested in - the pub!

Once upon a time, this place was called the Station Bar, and there is a chance -

just a chance - that one day it may be called the Station Bar again!

The Mash Tun is named after a vessel used in the whisky-making process,

which seems like a thoroughly suitable name for a Speyside pub.

Now, it's called the Mash Tun,

but I know it used to be called the Station Bar.

What's the story behind the change of the name?

The previous owner renamed the bar from the Station Bar to the Mash Tun,

purely because we're in the middle of whisky country.

What's been said is, when the next train

pulls into the platform here, it will revert back to the Station Bar!

Now, it is very rare for me to get the opportunity to come inside on any of my walks.

It is certainly very rare for me to come inside a pub and have a drink or two!

I think you guys are probably the best people here to talk through some whiskies?

-It would be a good idea to have a dram or two!

-OK!

-What would you recommend?

-Well, as you're in Aberlour,

-I would say the ideal drink would be to have a Aberlour.

-Of course!

And this is a typical Speyside whisky in that it's done in sherry casks, it is very sweet.

Very typical of a Speyside sort of dram.

Let me give it a taste and see what it's like.

The nose in it first. What you should maybe do is just take it.

If you open your mouth, you can feel the vapours flow across.

-Ooh, you can.

-And you can actually get a taste for it.

And if you try it without water first...

Ooh, that very smooth.

But it is strong!

It's just a drink to sip. Sip and enjoy.

How do the ingredients differ from one whisky to the next?

I know single malt is meant to be the best.

It's supposed to be the best, indeed.

The thing is, the key ingredients remain the same, regardless, throughout the process.

What actually changes the whisky is...the size of the stills can make a difference to the whisky.

The actual barrels that it's kept and aged in make a difference.

But there are certain people who use Chardonnay casks, which give it a different whisky.

That would be Chardonnay wine will have been prepared and served in it,

and then they would would use those old casks?

Kept in the casks for a minimum of three years in Scotland to be called Scotch whisky.

Now, I notice this very fine collection of whisky up here.

It looks very special. Is it?

It is indeed. There are only two of these collections that

we're aware of that are for sale by the dram anywhere in the world.

-Wow.

-That's here and the other one is Bar Nemo in Tokyo.

Now, it's also the only collection of whisky in the world that can run consecutively from 1952 up to 1994.

That is incredible. If I was going to go for

the top whack, 1952, top left-hand corner, what would that cost me?

That would cost you £224 a dram. JULIA LAUGHS

Can we go with that?

Director? Can I have a taste of that?

-SILENCE

-That's a no.

Anyway, I really like this Aberlour 10-year-old.

It's lovely. It's nice and sweet.

-It certainly is.

-It's got good flavours to it.

-Indeed.

-Thank you very much.

I've got to walk after this.

As you leave Aberlour, the railway passes close to an elegant footbridge.

Officially, the Victoria Bridge but known locally as the Penny Brig,

which was the price once charged to cross the Spey at this point.

But my way out of Aberlour is via a different bridge.

Once a solid railway structure, now a rather less stable suspension bridge for walkers.

It crosses the Burn of Aberlour, the chief source of water for the distillery here.

And water that makes it this far has escaped spending years ageing slowly in a sherry cask.

This set of tanks that resembles a huge chemistry experiment is where

they deal with all the leftover liquids after the distilling process.

Because if they just put all the burnt ale and spent grain back

into the local river then the oxygen levels in the Spey would be reduced.

And that would not be good news for the little trout and salmon.

The treatment plant services the waste produced of the Dailuaine Distillery, a site that's

been in operation since 1851.

When the railway arrived some 12 years later, it slowly became apparent

that the two industries could be of real benefit to one another.

And, eventually, Dailuaine received its very own railway station.

It's an ideal place for me to meet a man who knows all about

the relationship between steam and Scotch.

-Hi, Ian.

-Hi, Julie.

Hello, hello. Good to see you.

-And you.

-Now, it's not much of a station, is it?

No, it is one of the tiniest you could ever find.

It was built about 1933 for the distillery owners and their families.

This is quite a hill.

How did they manoeuvre the barrels, the whisky and all the big stuff?

That was done in the best possible way, with its own little puggy railway.

-Ah, a sneaky little puggy?

-Yes, yes.

If we go around this way, round the other side of the hill, we can find

-this little distillery hidden in the glen.

-Let's go and have a look.

Ian Peaty may not be a local man, but he certainly knows a thing or two about Scottish whisky.

He's up in Scotland finalising details for a book on local whisky and the Speyside railway.

Where does the name puggy come from?

It's one of the affectionate terms which Scots people gave to the most hard-working of little locomotives.

They're saddle-tank locomotives.

That means the water tank sits on the top.

They work very, very hard indeed. In fact, they used to come through here and then sharply into the distillery.

-Puggin' away?

-Yes.

-Chuggin' away and puggin' away.

-Yes, yes.

Until the best efforts of Dr Beeching in the mid-'60s,

the puggy used to run all the way into the heart of the distillery.

Today, the work is done by a succession of lorries and tankers.

But the old workings of Dailuaine have been captured by Ian in a painting for his new book.

This particular one was built in 1936.

It's the third one they had at this distillery.

And they owned them? They owned their engines.

Yes. And it was in their own livery, which I've depicted here.

And then, of course, behind it we've got the little engine shed

where it would stay overnight and be serviced, and so on.

The idea of a puggy line for Dailuaine

was first mooted by distillery owner William Mackenzie in the 1880s.

But it took well over a decade for any track be laid.

The final motivation was the opening of another distillery by Mackenzie's son.

The branch line could now serve both sites, the only complication

being that the new discovery was on the other side of the river.

And the puggies joined the larger locomotives as both branch and mainline shared the track across

the rather elegant Carron Bridge.

This was also a rare example of road and rail sharing the same infrastructure.

Look at this lovely view.

-It's amazing, isn't it?

-Yes.

That's flowing all the way down to the Morayshire coast, where they grow a lot of the barley made in whisky.

Yeah?

Carron Bridge is just a few hundred yards from the village of the same name.

Once the site of a major stop on the Strathspey railway

and the home of the Mackenzie family's second distillery.

Now, Ian, this is a more substantial station, isn't it?

It's a bit more substantial than the last halt we were at, certainly.

But it's horribly run down, unfortunately.

Even the clock's stopped ticking.

With the railway and the distillery at its heart, Carron village once bustled with life.

Thomas Mackenzie's distillery, seen here in its

pomp in one of Ian's paintings, was opened in 1897 - Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee year.

It was duly named Imperial.

But today, only the buildings remain.

And Carron has become an altogether different community.

It's become a silent distillery.

And that's how the people in the trade describe it.

The railway and the whisky industry were really a dream team, weren't they, for one another?

They certainly were. One was obviously complementary to the other, certainly in Speyside.

This is a classic example, with the railway being here

and its goods yard behind us, with the Imperial right on its doorstep.

And they actually put themselves there, so they had the access and they were closer to the railway?

Absolutely. It was absolutely essential because the Imperial had a very high production level.

They couldn't have existed without the railway.

So, I'm going to carry on my walk. Thank you very much.

Have a safe journey.

There's something sad but rather beautiful about

the silent distillery and its surrounding community.

The most lively corner of Carron today is the row

of Imperial cottages, built by the distillery for its workers.

Here, and in other places along the railway, local people could make use of a request halt.

Quite literally, they could thumb a lift.

Stroll along a Beeching railway and your thoughts are often focused on the past.

Local stories, local people.

A lost age, still fondly remembered.

But you can't forget that the Spey remains the focal point of a global

industry and the neighbouring distilleries of Knockando and Tamdhu are very much a part of that.

The beautifully-presented Knockando is now under the same ownership as Dailuaine.

A handful of multinational companies dominate the Speyside industry, producing household names like

Johnnie Walker, J&B, Grant's and Bell's.

Few distilleries remain in private hands.

Despite the presence of international big business on Speyside, it's remarkably quiet.

I must admit, I was expecting the atmosphere to be contaminated with noise and corporate throng.

You know, articulated lorries coming down and stuff.

But look at this,

it's really peaceful. Very well managed.

And there's still a slight reverence for the past at these modern factories.

Tamdhu station is beautifully preserved.

And Knockando shows off the old Customs and Excise office,

home to an important figure who would log produce at each distillery

and check that not too much of it disappeared out the back door when no-one was looking.

Three things have shaped my walk today - the whisky industry, the railway and the river itself.

The whisky wouldn't be what it is without the Spey and its tributaries.

And it's the river that gave the railway its original valley route

through the Scottish hills and mountains.

Through it all, the Spey has retained a totally unaffected character.

This is Scotland's fastest-flowing river.

For 100 miles it winds a majestic path, past the Cairngorms to its mouth next to the Moray Firth.

The railway meanwhile had to negotiate the Spey's main tributaries.

Woah! I can see why there's a viewing platform here.

That's quite a drop.

I'm heading in to the Ballindalloch estate.

Unfortunately from here you can't see the castle because it's tucked away in the woodlands.

But I do know that since it was built in the 16th century

it's been a private residence of the Macpherson-Grants.

With almost 500 years of history and 23,000 acres to play with, it's inevitable that the Ballindalloch

estate and castle should have had a significant influence on the area.

George Macpherson-Grant in particular

was clearly a forward thinker, being a key mover in starting up the nearby Cragganmore distillery.

But the family was also the start of a very different kind of dynasty.

This was where cattle from Aberdeen were brought together with cattle from Angus.

With plenty of spent grains from distilleries, the animals were always well fed.

And, 150 years later, the herd is still intact -

the original Aberdeen Angus family.

Back on the other side of the river, there's just a short walk left to reach Ballindalloch village.

And that's where I want to tackle a final piece of this railway jigsaw.

While the whisky trade made the railway unique, it was also vital

to a local community spread over a sparsely-populated area.

One more Spey crossing stands between me and my final destination.

This time, a rather serious-looking steel girder viaduct - still looking remarkably sturdy after 140 years.

The bridge brings me straight into the world of Ballindalloch Station, the last stop on my walk

and the place where I've arranged to meet a couple of likely lads with a lifelong connection to the area.

And they've known each other a very long time.

-So, what's that, about 15 years then?

-1946.

-1946?!

-Yes.

-Which school were you at?

-Aberlour.

It's safe to say that the old Strathspey railway brought these two friends together.

While Charlie has always lived in Aberlour, Peter lived here in

Ballindalloch and travelled to school every day on the railway.

Years later, Peter was still coming to this station every day, this time as station master.

Did you actually, having been here as a 13, 14-year-old lad, when you

came back here to work as a station master, believe it?

That you were back working there?

Not really. But I'm very proud to come back here as station master.

I'm sure, it must have been amazing.

And you must have been incredibly sad when the railways closed?

They should never have closed up here.

Not with the distillery traffic that we had up here.

-They made a mistake?

-I think they made a mistake.

Charlie, I know you're a whisky man.

I hear you've got quite a collection, I understand?

I've got a wee collection. I have a few bottles.

A few? Can we do a rough guesstimate? How many do we think?

Maybe in the region of 400.

400?

That would put any pub or bar to shame.

And whisky would have undoubtedly been an ingredient just next door at the Annual Granary Ball.

Peter's predecessors as station master would have witnessed

1,000 fancy-dressed party goers arriving from as far as Aberdeen on specially laid-on trains.

In the '20s and '30s, this unlikely spot was the place to be seen.

But accounts suggest that little drink was ever purchased at the balls.

Instead, locals would store their own supply of liquor in the long grass outside.

This might have been acquired through a variety of means.

They used to pinch the whisky.

Steal the whisky?

This is just a stave from a barrel.

They used to take the...

-ring that was here, and they chopped it up.

-Yep.

That slackened it.

They drilled a hole through here.

They all carried

-a gimlet.

-Just all carried one of these?

Aye, and they put it in.

They drilled a hole into the barrel.

-You see? And out came the whisky.

-Yes.

And, when they'd filled their pail,

they took a...

spike, put it in...chopped it in, and then cut it off.

And then put the ring back over the top?

And the Excise men, or anybody, they couldn't see where

the whisky got out of the barrel.

That's very naughty, isn't it?

Very naughty.

I approve. And what's this thing?

That was the other thing that they had.

They knocked the bung out of the barrel.

And they dropped this in.

Like a little well?

A well of whisky.

And they had a cork, they popped it in.

You see? And then they popped it down their pocket.

So you wouldn't see it? A nice flat, long cylinder.

Tuck it in your boot, down the trouser leg.

And they all had one of those, most of the distillery boys.

-Sneaky lot!

-They never put their name on them.

I bet they didn't!

That's one flask you don't want your name on, isn't it? Just in case.

Now, Charlie, I know this isn't yours.

Peter, this must belong to you. How long have you had this?

Since 1968.

-When the station closed?

-When the station closed, yes.

-That's beautiful, isn't it?

-It is.

In the long run, it's people like Charlie and Peter who miss the railway the most.

I've seen how the railway raised a famous industry to a whole new level.

But whisky's moved on and continues to prosper.

Journeys to school, though, they no longer happen by train.

For my friends and I, there is just time to head to Ballindalloch's

own distillery to sample a wee dram or two.

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