There is nothing subtle about Eldfell.
It rises from the sea like a scar of fire, born in an eruption that reshaped the Westman Islands in 1973. Its soil still breathes warmth. Its slopes tremble with wind and salt. And this is where we choose to weather our gin.
This is not gentle aging. This is agitation. Friction. Change.
And the results speak for themselves — though never in the same voice. Gin weathered on Eldfell transforms in unexpected ways. Sometimes the botanicals sharpen. Other times they deepen. The finish may stretch long and smoldering, or take on bright, saline lift. Flavors rise and recede: a wisp of smoke, a flicker of citrus, a memory of mezcal or Islay malt carried in the cask. Each barrel tells a different story — and each sip is a discovery.
Each cask on Eldfell is chosen for how it will respond to the volcano’s wild temperament. We embrace unpredictability. No two barrels weather the same, and no two batches will ever be identical. That’s not a flaw — that’s the point.
When visitors hike the winding trail up Eldfell, they pass a simple sign with a QR code that tells the story. Some stop and scan. A few even follow it to a bottle. But what matters most is that the barrels are there — sitting beneath the sky, in the open air, on the edge of the world. Letting the volcano do what it does: change everything it touches.