Littlemill: a tale of a ghost distillery
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Not so far from Glasgow, where the River Clyde opens its mouth a little wider to the estuary, once stood the buildings of Littlemill Distillery . Old photographs show a cluster of low, white-washed buildings with black slated roofs, the surface of the walls streaked with age; buildings suffused with an air of abandonment.
These photos are all we have of them now. Production stopped in 1994, the distillery was dismantled in 1997, and a fire destroyed the buildings in 2004. Today, a housing development stands on the site. But I wonder, as you are drifting off to sleep, if you can still hear the roll of the barrels, the clatter of tools against the copper pot stills, the thrum of industry. If you can still smell the deep, fruity stench of the brewing barley; if you can taste it in the air.
This is one of Scotland’s “ghost distilleries”. Its story dates back to 1772, making it Scotland’s oldest licensed site. The history here is a familiar one in Scotland, marked by closures and reopenings, changing hands throughout the centuries. But all activity would eventually grind to a halt in the 1990s, its fate later secured by the fire.
Whisky heritage is soaked into the bones of the area – that stretch from Glasgow to Campbeltown, along the banks of the Clyde. During the 1800s, Glasgow was considered the “second city of the British Empire”, a hub of industry and trade. Blooming around it, the West of Scotland was the heart of Scotch whisky distilling. But as one century gave way to another, and the sun began setting on a crumbling empire, that industry moved north, into the Highlands and up to Speyside. In its wake, it left a landscape haunted by ghost distilleries, a trail of shelled-out buildings hinting at an industrious past.
All that remains of Littlemill’s great legacy are archival records and casks. The last of these casks, acquired in 1994, now sit in the warehouses of Loch Lomond Distillery. They are precious things, the whisky still alive and breathing in the wood. And now, they’re safely in the hands of Master Blender Michael Henry, who has been making whisky with Loch Lomond Distillery for the last 17 years.
It must feel like an immense responsibility to work with the last remaining casks of a distillery that will never return. “There’s a real mix of emotions,” says Michael, over a video call. “There’s the romance of working with a ghost distillery – a sense that you’re part of that history – so there’s a kind of sadness that that history has come to an end. But it’s also a celebration. We’re getting people to know about Littlemill, telling its story, sharing its liquid.”
Working with these remaining Littlemill casks, Michael has crafted two new collections: the Cask Reflections Series and the Vanguards Collection. These casks are handled with immense delicacy and skill. Such a job requires an intimate knowledge of each cask, how the liquid is showing at any given time, knowing where the balance lies between the spirit character and the wood influence. How each piece fits within the wider puzzle, like a fragment of melody in a broader symphony.
After all, these liquids are time portals, some of them made from whisky that was distilled half a century ago. Extraordinarily rare, they capture a moment that will never return. Knowing this, it must feel strange to drink such a thing. But Michael is unequivocal.
“The thing about any whisky, no matter its history, is the fact that it’s made for drinking. It’s made to be tasted and enjoyed. That’s the most respectful thing we can do – the way we can pay homage to the distillers.”
