Introduction There’s something about Clynelish from the early '70s that always catches my attention—particularly 1971, a year that seems to capture the oiliness and mineral-driven complexity I look for in Highland whiskies. I opened this particular bottle expecting a robust blend of waxy texture and subtle coastal influence, and it certainly delivered on both fronts. Nose On the nose, it was immediately clear this wasn’t a whisky in any rush. It opened slowly with beeswax and gentle yet firm mineral notes — the kind that remind me of a walk along a cool shoreline after rain. I also got subtle touches of old citrus peel, soft hay, and even a tiny trace of mustard seed. With time in the glass, the fruity core came through more clearly: dried apricot, papaya, and a faint hint of pineapple. There was also a muted herbal quality, maybe fennel or parsley, that gave it a dry, almost chalky edge. Nothing flashy, but intricately layered. Palate The palate followed through with that mix of structure and restraint I hoped for. Medium-bodied but firm in presence, the waxiness led up front—sort of a gentle, oily mouth-coating feel that speaks to what I personally love in Clynelish from this period. After that, it moved into a drier register: crushed limestone, white pepper, and a slight earthy bitterness that provided grip and contrast. The fruit re-emerged mid-palate with more clarity—grilled peach and dried mango, maybe even a little apple skin. It never felt overly sweet or rich, but rather clean and balanced. The coastal salinity remained in the background, steady and integrated. Finish The finish ran long and mildly drying, which suited the whisky’s overall character. Wax lingered most prominently, followed by a mineral chalkiness that I found quite appealing. A late wave of white spice flickered in and out—more clove than pepper—which gave the tail end a slight tightening effect on the palate. There wasn’t any big fruit finale or oak-heavy climax, which to me emphasized its subtlety rather than blowing things out. Price and Value Whiskies from this era don’t come cheaply, and Clynelish 1971 is no exception. That said, if you’re someone who values textural nuance and dry complexity over loud sherry influence or peat smoke, I would argue that it’s worth the investment. The bottle demonstrates balance and depth in a way that modern equivalents rarely match. While I wouldn't call it a "daily dram" due to scarcity and cost, it offers something genuinely different that’s become harder to find in contemporary single malts. Background This release comes from Clynelish, a distillery located on the northeast coast of Scotland in the Highlands, known for its distinct waxy spirit style and proximity to the original Brora site. The distillery was rebuilt in 1968, but this 1971 release still shows echoes of that transitional period. Back then, they used worm tubs and traditional floor maltings, elements many believe contribute to the distillery’s oily texture and layered flavour profile. Clynelish isn’t known for flashy wood finishes or big marketing campaigns. Instead, enthusiasts seek out specific vintage years where everything—from cask quality to distillation practice—seems to align just right. This release is one of those. You can learn more about the distillery at the official Clynelish page. Final Notes Would I buy this bottle again? If availability and price aligned, absolutely. This is a whisky that invites attentiveness—it doesn’t scream for your attention, but rewards slow tasting with remarkable depth. Is it suitable for newcomers? Probably not the best place to start unless you're already familiar with waxy or mineral-driven malts. I found it fits quiet, contemplative evenings best—times when you're more interested in subtle expression than dram theatrics. And compared to other Highland whiskies from the same era, I think this Clynelish leans more toward taut, structured austerity rather than outright fruitiness or richness, which makes it stand out for me.