Day Four: Adventures on Jura

Jura is an island across from Islay. It's not that much smaller (actually, I have no idea if it even IS smaller than Islay) and very sparsely populated: fewer than 200 people according to the 2011 census. The number of red deer is less certain but thought to be at least triple the human population. I was prepared for something rather boring and desolate, but what I found was absolutely enchanting.

When we set off on our journey to Jura, I was quite tipsy and had only one thing on my mind: lunch. I wanted as much lunch as possible and I wanted it as soon as humanly possible. But, first, we had to run through the gauntlet of the Jura ferry.

Now, the Jura ferry shouldn't be a big deal. It's about a 5-10 minute trip on a small boat. It runs all the time and only holds about 6 cars. However, we'd been warned that the ferry to Jura can be quite harrowing. Something to do with tiny boat being thrown about by strange currents and all that. In my current state (empty of stomach, full of young spirit), I was a little trepidatious, to say the least.

Getting on the ferry at Islay, going towards Jura 

Luckily, it was a clear day, so our ferry ride really was a brief and uneventful journey. My stomach was eternally thankful.

As soon as we started driving down the road to Jura, E was elbowing me to take pictures. Every three feet the road got more and more scenic. We had about a ten minute drive from the ferry into town, and I spent it quite usefully trying to take scenic photographs while intoxicated out of a car window.

Obviously, some came out better than others

Our destination, in theory, was the Jura Distillery, so named because it is the only distillery on Jura. There was, however, a small but vocal mutiny occurring inside the car. Certain parties, who shall remain nameless, insisted that their ingestion of young spirit made food a more pressing requirement than further viewing of stills, washbacks and warehouses. Other parties rightfully pointed out that the last tour on Jura began in short order, and we would almost certainly never be back here. 

The debate continued as we drove into what I'm going to call downtown Jura. It was, par for the course, disturbingly pretty, particularly with the movement of the clouds. The distillery was fairly easy to spot. 

This was the closest we got. At least we have gray hoodie, if not seaside warehouse

Once we reached the distillery, we realized three troubling facts: the local bistro closed at 3. The local restaurant didn't start serving dinner until 6. The next distillery tour was at 2:30, and there was no way that it would be completed by 3.

I, being a woman of strong and noble character, gallantly threw myself upon the sword and volunteered to skip the distillery tour in the interest of getting lunch for myself and E. This was a selfless act, motivated completely for his benefit and not at all by the pervasive dizziness that still haunted me. So, we parted ways temporarily. I went to the bistro where a waitress who inexplicably hated me served me something that was almost but not entirely unlike a cheeseburger. She was nice enough to put another specimen of the same depressing variety in a styrofoam box for E.

I finished my burger and idly read my Kindle app. Since I wasn't there and E wasn't inspired, we have precisely zero pictures of the inside of the Jura distillery. I'm guessing there were (wait for it) stills and washbacks and casks.

After the tour, E arrived at the bistro, told me that I missed nothing and proceeded to devour his burger-like food. Then we decided to take a walk down the shore road.