Tobermory re-visited. Two pubs plus a distillery

I'm pretty certain that this wasn't my first trip to Tobermory, as back in the mid-1970s I took part in a two-week botany, field course on the island of Mull. This was at the end of my second year at Salford University. Our accommodation during our time on the island, was a large, rented country house that had probably seen better days, although it was ideally suited for the purposes of the course. 

The accommodation was divided on strictly gender lines, with female students billeted in the house whilst us male students had to sleep outside in a number of tents. There was no problem with that apart from the fact we were plagued by biting insects that were at their most prevalent during late June - mosquitoes but also horseflies. Fortunately, in the main, these biting critters left me alone, but one poor fellow student was practically eaten alive.

I digress, but one fact worth noting was those one of the two laboratory technicians employed by the university, who accompanied us on the course, had the foresight to bring a couple of firkins of Boddington's Bitter along. The pair had been to Mull before and knew how dire the local beer scene was, especially to for people coming from the Manchester region. Boddington's was still a highly regarded beer, back then, and the two casks were welcomed by students and university staff, with the possible exception of the course leader. Our rather eccentric lecturer was not amused and claimed that the support staff had left some important equipment behind, to make room for the beer! Complete rubbish of course, and just sour grapes on his part!

For the record our country house field course base was in the village of Bunessan, a tiny settlement of just 200 souls in the far south of the island, in the area known as the Ross of Mull. The village watering hole was the Bunessan Inn (previously the Argyll Arms), and although we made a couple of visits there, the locals weren’t exactly friendly. So, with Boddie’s bitter on tap, back at our study centre, and just keg McEwan’s in the village pub, we did most of our drinking back at the ranch, so to speak. At some stage of the trip, we made a brief visit to Tobermory, although after 50 years I can't quite remember why we would have done that, given the remoteness of our country house base. However, the memory of that visit stuck in my mind, and on day five of our “Treasures of the British Isles” cruise, the opportunity of a return trip to Tobermory arose.

With no significant docks or other berthing facilities on the island, our cruise ship anchored out in the sound, with passengers being transferred ashore by tender, in effect three of the ships’ lifeboats. Mrs PBT's remained on the ship, as she is not particularly mobile at the best of times, and didn’t fancy clambering in and out of a relatively small boat. 

The journey across on the tender took about 20-25 minutes and when I stepped ashore in Tobermory, the sun was shining, and all seemed well with the world. I headed along the waterfront into the town pausing first for a quick look at the Tobermory Distillery, a business that was visited several years ago by Eileen’s late brother, David. The town of Tobermory and the single malt whiskey produced there, were items that were high on David’s list of places to visit. His chance came when, along with his partner Lynn, he embarked on a similar, “Round Britain Cruise” to the one that Eileen and I were enjoying. 

Sadly, David never had a chance to properly enjoy the bottle that he purchased from the Tobermory Distillery, although Lynn kindly passed the bottle on to me. I’m no whisky connoisseur, although I do enjoy the occasional “dram”. Those snifters are very occasional though, as two-thirds of the bottle I inherited remains un-drunk. This is despite the 12-year-old, single malt Tobermory whisky, being very distinctive, with a palate that is described as gently sweet, un-peated and floral. The distillery itself dates back to 1798 and is one of the oldest commercial distilleries in Scotland. It’s true to say that the whisky embodies the character and feel of Tobermory, so much so that whilst writing this piece, I was tempted to pour myself a dram and drink a toast to Eileen’s late, and much-missed brother. Note: it’s a very intense, and strong-tasting single malt, that is definitely one for sipping and savouring, rather than throwing down one’s neck. Here’s to you, David Cosham!

Moving away from the quayside, I continued on into the town and found it a charming and delightful place, with the brightly painted and colourful buildings, that are home to a myriad of local independent shops, hotels, restaurants and bars. Before sampling a few of these for myself, I strolled along to the far end of the seafront and then followed a path going uphill, to the location of the Isle of Mull War Memorial, from where I enjoyed a panoramic vista out over the town below. I then joined another path that led back down the hillside, and into the town. Before reaching the first watering-hole of the day, I stopped to take a photo of the Tobermory Youth Hostel, which is reproduced here for Stafford Paul’s benefit. I wonder if he’s stayed there, at all?

I then ventured inside the Mishnish Hotel, a busy, multi-room pub on the harbour front near the ferry terminal. Painted in a stand-out shade of bright yellow, this recently refurbished establishment offers a number of en-suite rooms, alongside a well-regarded restaurant, serving local produce. The bar is open until 1am in the summer, if the trade is sufficiently busy, and food is served until late. The Mishnish was already starting to get busy when I stepped inside, and not just with people like me who’d come on the cruise ship. I discovered a number of inter-connected rooms, on the right-hand side of the building, and this is where the main bar is, whilst the aforementioned restaurant is on the left. 

On tap was Jarl, a legendary, Citra-session, blonde ale from Fyne Ales. The beer was in good form and slipped down a treat. There was an additional cask offering, in the form of No. 47, a house beer, also brewed by Fyne, but it was taken off service before I departed. 

Satisfied with just the one beer for the time being, I headed back belong from seafront, calling in at the local bakery where I purchased a tasty and rather flavoursome Cornish pasty. I sat enjoying this lunchtime offering, whilst overlooking the sea front, and followed it up with a small tub of locally produced, ice cream. I then continued back along towards the embarkation point for the return journey to the ship, but before joining the queue there was time for one final pub visit.

The pub in question was called McGochan’s, and this red-painted, two storey pub and restaurant facing the car park at the western end of the harbour was just the place to say goodbye to Mull. The pub didn’t open until 3pm, which is why I didn’t notice it when I arrived in Tobermory. I clocked it on the way back though, and with plenty of time before the final tender, back to the ship, I left the queue I’d joined a few minutes earlier, and headed off to the pub.

McGochan’s is part of the Rocks Leisure Group, who operate a number of similar pubs in four other, picturesque, Scottish locations. Their Tobermory outlet was a real gem, with the mixture of contemporary and traditional working well. There were a couple of cask offerings on the bar, in the form of Ardgou Brewery - Goghar Odhar, a bit of a mouthful, but a pleasant beer, nevertheless, alongside the Fyne Ales, Jarl, that I’d sampled earlier.  My unpronounceable beer was served to me, in tip-to condition, by a pleasant and rather chatty Australian barmaid.

I was pleased not to have missed this excellent, harbourside pub, which rounded off nicely, my return visit to Tobermory. After picking up a full complement of passengers, the tender set off for the ship. The sea da was a little choppy out on the main channel, where the ship was anchored, but it wasn’t something I couldn't really cope with. Arriving back on Ambience, I was in time to join Mrs PBT’s for afternoon tea, an event that seems something of a tradition on British cruise lines. It was a fitting end to what had been a most enjoyable day out in what was our final Hebridean port of call.