I still can smell this sweet-malty-sour-berry-something flavour that came out of the small hatch the guide opened to let us have a look. The odour was there the whole day, it hang in the mountains and followed us into the bus back to Inverness.
Apart from the smell, I also still have very vivid images in my head of that day: the fog rolling into the valley, the smoking chimneys of the distilleries peeping out of the dark green woods, the - also - dark stones of the houses, the whole atmosphere of Glenfiddich. It all looked like something from another time - I'm still not sure if past or future. Like something out of a Neil Gaiman-Book or H.G. Wells - a mixture of Steampunk and absolute sophistication.
