Peated
We were on the ferry leaving Islay – aromas of top-deck ashtrays, oil slicks in sea water, diesel smoke, coal-tar soap and the unforgettable canteen. As the island shrank into the distance, we savoured memories of this visit to the Queen of the Hebrides – watching peat stacks drying in the sun; salty, mineralic notes of seaweed on sand and tortured rocks; the flowering machair behind with teasing wafts of chamomile, sage, lavender and mint; the charred wood and embers of a memorable beach barbecue.