EGAE - Eglinton Airport, Ireland, GB

World Heritage Sites Air Adventures: Whisky, Whiskey, Whales, and Gophers – Clairseach and Chopsticks Edition: Flight Log #001

Date: Sunday, June 15, 2025
Weather: Atlantic mist. Crosswinds. Visibility: just enough to see trouble coming.
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Flight Plan
• Route: Islay Airport (EGPI) → Rathlin Island → Ballycastle → Castlerock → Eglinton (EGAE)
• Aircraft: DHC-5 Buffalo “Pipi”
• Crew: Cropduster (Pilot), Liam Neeson (that’s me—yes, with a very particular set of skills), Fiona “Ferret” McDougall (Logistics), Lani “Sky” (K9), Kai “Sea” (K9), Tiger Shark Squadron support
• Support: The Scottish contingent—Wallace, MacGregor, and Angus—lingering at the edge of the action, arms folded, eyes wary.
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Narrative Log Entry
By Liam Neeson
I don’t do things by accident. I chose to board the Buffalo at Islay. Not for convenience. Not for the view. I needed time—time to prep Cropduster for what was coming. You see, if you’re going to cross into Ireland with me, you need to be ready. Ready for the real lessons. The kind you don’t get from a guidebook or a tourist pamphlet. The kind that matter.

Islay gave me the perfect window. Scotch country. Cropduster’s comfort zone. I wanted him off-balance, open to new ideas—Irish ideas. As the props spun up and the Scottish coast faded behind us, I started the briefing. “You’re about to enter a world where whiskey is spelled with an ‘e’ and hospitality isn’t a suggestion—it’s a requirement. You want to survive, you listen. You want to thrive, you learn. And if you don’t, well… I will look for you, I will find you, and I will convert you.”

We took off from Islay. I don’t like loose ends, so I checked the cargo twice. Cropduster’s hands were steady on the controls, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He’s a Scotch man. That’s a weakness I intend to fix.

As we banked over Rathlin Island, I laid it out for him. “Cropduster, Irish whiskey is triple distilled. That means it’s smoother. Cleaner. It doesn’t burn bridges. It builds them.” Kai, the only dog I trust with avionics, hit the green button. “Whiskey in the Jar” blasted through the speakers. Lani, sharp as ever, pawed the red button. A hidden panel slid open. Inside: full-sized bottles of Redbreast 21 and Bushmills 16, and a six-pack of O’Hara’s Irish Red Ale. My contacts in Dublin came through. They always do.

Below us, the North Channel stretched wide—on a clear day, you can almost see Wales on the horizon. Of course, the only whales we spotted today were the kind you tell stories about in pubs. But that’s another tale for another dram.

I handed Cropduster the Redbreast. “Smell that. Tropical fruit. Honey. Toasted nuts. Finish so long, you’ll forget what you were arguing about.” Then the Bushmills. “Honey, caramel, dark chocolate, and sherry. This isn’t a drink. It’s a promise.” The O’Hara’s? “Caramel, roasted malt, a pint that means business.”

We flew low over Ballycastle. I told Cropduster I’d find him the best Irish ramen. “I have the skills. I have the contacts. I will find it. And if anyone gets in my way, well, you know how that ends.” At Castlerock, I radioed ahead. “Keep the broth hot. We’re coming in.”

Landing at Eglinton, the news was full of Tall Ships and a parade float blocking the runway. That’s not my problem. My problem is hunger. We went straight to The Emerald Broth: Ramen & Whiskey House. My Belfast contact had the bowl waiting. Not just any ramen—this was Gaelic Firestorm Ramen. The kind of dish that tests your resolve.

This bowl was a force of nature: springy noodles in a broth forged from slow-cooked pork and chicken bones, a double-shot of Bushmills for heat, and a secret blend of Irish chilies and smoked paprika that could wake the dead. Plump West Coast mussels, wild Atlantic seaweed, scallions, a soft egg, toasted sesame, and a slick of house-made chili oil that shimmered like molten gold. The aroma alone could start a revolution.

First bite: silky, then a surge of smoke and brine, then the fire—relentless, building with every mouthful, the whiskey’s honeyed sweetness riding shotgun with the heat. By the third slurp, Cropduster’s eyes were watering. By the fifth, he was reaching for the Redbreast. Me? I’ve faced worse. But even I had to respect the Gaelic Firestorm.

Meanwhile, the Scottish crew—Wallace, MacGregor, and Angus—kept their distance. Old habits, old rivalries. I could see them, arms folded, watching the whiskey pour and the ramen bowls empty. I called them over. “You’re in Ireland now. You want to stay on this squadron, you open your minds—and your glasses. If you don’t, well… I will find you. And I will convert you.” I let that settle, then couldn’t resist: “Don’t worry, lads—Irish whiskey won’t make your kilts shrink, but it might make you smile for once.”

They hesitated. Then the aroma of the Gaelic Firestorm and the promise of Irish liquid hospitality did the rest. Resistance is futile when you’re up against a Neeson with a mission.
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Collectibles & Barter
• Acquired: Redbreast 21 Year Old. Bushmills 16 Year Old. O’Hara’s Irish Red Ale. All full-sized. All hard to find. All mine, for now.
• Traded: Fiona “Ferret” McDougall didn’t just negotiate for the chef’s secret Gaelic Firestorm Ramen recipe—she honored the moment. She handed the chef a Tiger Shark Squadron Challenge Coin, the mark of respect in our world, and followed it with a squadron patch. “For the fire you’ve unleashed,” she said. The chef just nodded, eyes shining. Some things don’t need words.
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Challenge of the Day
The Gaelic Firestorm Gauntlet:
Fiona “Ferret” McDougall finished first. She didn’t sweat. She negotiated for the recipe before Cropduster finished his second bite. Cropduster survived, but needed a chaser of Redbreast 21. I finished mine with the calm of a man who’s been through worse. The Bushmills in the broth? It reminded me of home—if home was on fire.
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Support Crew Antics
Over at the C-130H, “Wrench” Crescent and Fiona tried to turn the Gopher Tank into a mobile whiskey bar. Result: one tipsy golf cart, a cargo hold that smelled like an Irish pub, and a lot of bad jokes about “runway refreshments.” I’ve seen worse.
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Music & Food
• Song of the Day: “Whiskey in the Jar.” Loud. Proud. Irish.
• Culinary Highlight: Gaelic Firestorm Ramen from The Emerald Broth. Silky, savory, smoky, briny, and a fire that doesn’t ask permission. Bushmills in the broth. Mussels and seaweed from the coast. A bowl that means business.
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Closing Thoughts
I came here to teach Cropduster about Irish whiskey. I’ll stay until he learns. With Fiona’s skills, Lani and Kai’s intuition, my contacts, and a hold full of the best whiskey in Ireland, we’re just getting started. The Scottish crew? They’ll learn too—one way or another. Next up: deeper into the heartland. More whiskey. More ramen. More lessons. If you’re smart, you’ll stay tuned. If you’re not, well… I will look for you. I will find you. And I will convert you.

Until the next mission—keep your eyes open, your glass full, and your wits about you. Because I have a very particular set of skills… and I’m just getting started.

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