It is hard to say what strikes you first, the stink of drink or the clamor of hammers, upon entering Cambus Cooperage near Alloa.
This is an extraordinary place. In the yard outside, empty casks are piled in pyramids 20-feet high, the blistering paint on their lids stamped with the names of distilleries long closed. Over these man-made mountains loom the green-grey mass of the Ochil Hills, their tops shrouded by cloud.
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