Oban Rises

The small town of Oban is a pain in the arse. My brother Daniel and I attempted on numerous occasions to get a great picture of the town, but wind and rain meant I came away with only three nighttime shots of the shopfronts near the harbour. I also had no opportunity to take my coveted long exposure into the westward blackness wherein lies the island of Kerrara. I'll have to return on a clear summer's evening.

The boat in the foreground is being buffeted by 10 seconds of wind; that water appears deceptively still. I don't know what the purple coliseum on top of the hill is. I could Google it, but I'm currently enjoying the mystique. It might not even be a coliseum, but big round open buildings things tend to be theatres in my experience.

Ahead of the purple thing is Oban Distillery, which Daniel and I visited. It was a fantastic tour and we came away with a free snifter each after sampling a unique 10-year-old cask that was noticeably 57% alcohol. It turns out – at least I think it does, again I could search online, but that would take the fun out of it – that I understood a lot of the magic that creates whisky due to my Chemistry A-Level. I miss Chemistry a lot. Perhaps I should get one of those kits for kids.