Cask and Still Magazine | 29 >>>
ike all the best ideas, it began when a bottle of whisky was opened. Bill Lark had been fl y fi shing with his wife, Lyn, and her
parents in the Central Highlands of his native
Tasmania and he’d caught a beautiful brown trout. As they set up their barbecue to cook the fi sh in a park at Bothwell, an old town beside the Clyde River, his father-in-law, Max,
produced a bottle of single malt Scotch whisky to celebrate. ‘After we’d had a drink, I turned to Max and
asked him why no-one was making whisky in Tasmania?’ remembers Lark. ‘We’ve got fantastic barley, the water is very good here, the climate is suitable and I knew we even had peat bogs further up the road.’ Lark discovered that the Australian island had once had a thriving whisky scene, but that the industry was brought to an abrupt halt in 1838 after Lady Jane Franklin, the wife of Governor John Franklin, told her husband that ‘I would prefer barley be fed to pigs than it be used to turn men into swine’. Franklin responded to her outburst about the evils of the spirit by
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