We soon had the fire going and cracked open the 18year old Caol Isla (“Sound of Islay”) malt whisky, which had been distilled just a few kilometres away on the Islay side of the Sound. The midges clearly appreciated the local spirit as well, though they seemed to have had enough by nightfall.
Fortunately they disappeared after dark. As the night wore on the embers of our fire slowly died away and the Ruvaal lighthouse beam flashed steadily over the restless dark waters of the Sound.
I can think of no better circumstances in which to savour a malt whisky. I swear we even caught a whiff of the "angels' share" blowing from the distillery in the wind across the Sound. We slept soundly that night.