Out past Otautau, where the skies stretch wide, Auld’s farm at Scott Gap has been growing grain for three generations – all named Rob (which keeps things simple). They’ve worked the land, harvesting wheat, wrangling sheep, raising a family. And now, they make whisky. Really good whisky.
Rob and Toni Auld run Auld Farm Distillery, possibly the southernmost in New Zealand – although Rob reckons a bar in Chile just pips them for the title. Doesn’t matter. What they’ve got here is pure Southland: 200 hectares of good soil, a spring that runs clear, and nine different grains that they grow, harvest, and turn into gin, whisky, and whatever other delicious experiments they’re cooking up next.
“We’re not bound by tradition,” says Rob. “We respect it, but we’re not afraid to mess with it a bit.”
They distil using copper pot stills made in Tasmania, proper gear, but the ingredients are all homegrown. Barley, oats, wheat, maize, even black barley and purple wheat.
The whisky bug bit Rob hard after a pit stop in Oamaru. He and Toni ducked into a whisky shop, and Rob got a look inside the bond store, those big barrels ageing gracefully in the dark. On the casks: the year 1987. Back when the Auld farm was supplying barley to Dunedin’s Wilson’s Distillery.
“It blew my mind,” says Rob. “That might’ve been our grain. As a farmer, you watch truckloads head off down the driveway. You never see them again. This? This came full circle.”
So he did what any curious, whisky-loving Southlander would do: went home, signed up for a Rabobank business course, and started plotting.
“Originally, I knew how to grow grain and how to drink whisky. The bit in the middle? That was the mystery.”
They trained in Tassie, bought stills, and in 2017, fired up the first batch. Since then, they’ve scaled up, run the stills 24/7 for a stretch, and sold out of foundation casks to whisky fans keen to own a slice of the story. They’ve just successfully run a crowdfunding campaign to really kick it all up a notch.
The first full Auld whisky comes of age in 2025, but in the meantime, there’s gin, there’s new make (unaged whisky), and there are plenty of good yarns.
Distilling has changed the way Rob farms. He’s no longer chasing big yields – he’s chasing flavour. That means sowing in autumn, letting the grains hibernate over winter, and harvesting in January. It’s farming with your taste buds. And it’s working.
Their distillery now hosts tours, serves curious locals and tourists, and is set to export into Southeast Asia and the UK. They’ve played Parliament parties, won arable awards, and Rob’s dreaming up a cooperage so they can one day make their own casks, too.
“We just wanted to try something,” says Toni. “Now it’s a whole thing.”
Even the leftover citrus from the gin goes to the local school. It’s all very Southland, practical, resourceful, a bit unexpected, and deeply flavourful.
Auld Distillery isn’t just about whisky. It’s about doing more with what you’ve got. Turning good grain into great booze. Giving farming kids a reason to stick around. Putting Southland on the map for something other than sheep and southern hospitality (though they’ve still got plenty of both).
Rob sums it up best: “Everyone needs a cask of whisky in their life.”
