The warning from an international watchdog that the world faces an oil supply crunch in five years - which coincided with a fresh spike in oil prices early in the week - probably sent a chill down the spine of many in business.

With oil majors keen to boost retail margins, market watchers said there was a real prospect that petrol would cost more than £1 per litre on the UK's forecourts before long.

In outlying areas where petrol costs more than in central parts, the impact could be especially hard. Having spent years campaigning hard for improved transport links, business groups may feel the latest developments add weight to their calls for a big increase in investment on Scotland's roads.

Small businesses in particular cannot afford to spend increasing amounts of money either making unnecessarily long journeys or sitting with their car engines running in traffic jams.

The green lobby may be hoping that the rise in fuel prices will prompt more people to leave their wagons at home or in the works car park.

However, business leaders say that for too many firms weaknesses in the public transport system mean this is not a viable option.

This can leave ministers grappling with the kind of chicken and egg situation that few people would want to have to try to resolve.

However, the subject of this week's SME Focus, Mark Reynier of Bruichladdich distillery, argues passionately that if public bodies are as serious as they claim to be about trying to help Scotland's island and rural communities prosper, inaction is not an option.

Name:
Mark Reynier.

Age:
Forty-five.

What is your business called?
Bruichladdich Distillery.

Where is it based?
Isle of Islay.

What does it produce?
Islay single malt whisky.

What services does it offer?
Responsible intoxication, whisky education and retail therapy.

To whom does it sell?
Discerning consumers: both wine drinkers and whisky fanatics alike via online sales, whisky specialists, Oddbins, Wm Morrison, J Sainsbury etcetera.

What is its turnover?
£6m.

How many employees?
Forty-seven.

When was it formed?
December 19, 2000.

What were you doing before you took the plunge?
Buying, shipping and retailing fine wine for my own company in Knightsbridge, central London. My whisky life started fortuitously at a casual blind tasting of single malts in 1986, where one particular single malt stood out from the dozen or so malts as having all the attributes associated with a really fine wine. That was my epiphany moment: I had discovered something that I felt no-one else knew anything about. A few years later, with a couple of mates, I launched Murray McDavid, an independent bottler (named after my maternal grandparents), bringing to market the best single malts we could find out there and bottling them naturally - with out chill filtration or colouring. That was the start.

Why did you take the plunge?
I first visited Bruichladdich in 1989 and was surprised to find it shut up and looking pretty down on its luck. It was nothing like I had expected it to be. I found it difficult to rationalise the quality and style of the whisky I had discovered with what I saw. The sign "Plant closed. No visitors" summed it up. I was sent away by some grumpy bloke behind the gates who told me to f*** off. That was when I thought I ought to try and buy the place - if only to bring "closure" to the unsatisfactory experience. I never actually expected to succeed - and it did take 10 years to pull off. I was bored by the standardisation of modern wine, yet fascinated by the undeveloped potential of the single malt sector that I had experienced with my little fledgling whisky company. Here was the chance to bring the two together: the wine trade concept of provenance to the big industry of whisky. In effect, the challenge was to de-industrialise our national drink by going back to how it used to be made a century ago.

How did you raise the start-up funding?
I knew it had to be private equity and not companies or venture capitalists that would take a short-term view. This needed long-term, sophisticated investors for whom the £100,000 stake was not their last penny, so if I needed more bucks I could get it. Equally, those for whom there would also be an emotional attachment. We needed £7.5m in total - £4.5m equity - to buy all the maturing stocks dating back to 1964 - the buildings were pretty much free. Almost 60% of the equity came from within Scotland - with 40% from Islay itself.

What was your biggest break?
After the tenth year of half-heartedly trying to buy the distillery, finally getting a "yes" - the chance to resurrect Bruichladdich. Getting the support of our solicitor Andrew Sleigh at Burness, who actually believed this nutter could pull it off, was particularly helpful.

What was your worst moment?
Completion day morning in Burness's offices in Glasgow when the funds were to be transferred at the midday deadline. I was £400,000 short - lost in cyberspace - and I was desperately trying to think what I was going to say to everyone that I had let down. One minute before the deadline it came through.

What do you most enjoy about running the business?
Making something that is revered by many and gives so much pleasure to those who come across it. I used to sell something that other people had created. And to have the privilege to work in such a beautiful place. You should see the view of Lochindaal from my office, with the Atlantic only 15 metres away. I admire the "can-do" self-sufficiency of the people I work with, some are crofters, where no problem is too big.

What do you least enjoy?
My Ma was Scottish so I knew the west coast pretty well, and I thought I knew what to expect. The fatalism of islanders, the sensitivity of cultural differences and the frustrations of local politics take some getting used to. Most incomers come to retire here, not to work. No matter what anyone says, and I am half-Scottish, but there is a gulf wider than the Corryvrechan between living all one's life in the cushy south-east and working on a remote Hebridean island.

What is your biggest bugbear?
Transport. Some wallow in the romantic, rose-tinted, image of Caledonian McBrayne's lifeline service. Others (the users) resent the inefficiency, high prices and lack of sailings. It is these two diametrically-opposed views that ensure the status quo - and consequently I am sure it has been an advantage for the powers-that-be to maintain these entrenched positions. The "you're lucky to have anything at all" school of provision has to change if population decline is to be reversed, communities stabilised, and proper jobs created. Or it's death by retiree. It seems absurd that the island's economy should be strangled by the state's own ferry company stuck in a seventies time warp. For vehicles, the route is one of the world's most expensive on a per-mile basis, and the lack of capacity compounds the dissatisfaction of visitors, islanders and businesses alike. The demand for an increased level of service is strong: Loganair, having for years resisted calls for more plane services, last year put on extra flights - and together with price reductions for islanders - there was a 25% increase in traffic. It's all the more frustrating when the much-needed extra capacity is already available - if the existing ferries were run more frequently. Thankfully Calmac now acknowledges this. But only after heavy lobbying from the whisky industry. It was announced that the number of winter ferry services will be increased to avoid the delays, disruption and chaos that dogged last winter. If only the (Scottish) Executive would have the boldness - and the vision - to provide a full, year-round, regular timetabled service that would provide the island with the economy-enhancing service that it needs, and not merely a half-hearted, stop-gap fix. While there is apparent desire to grow the communities of these islands, to arrest the population decline, encourage businesses, and improve the future prospects, there is a lack of strategic infrastructure planning (broadband has been a big bonus though) which results in wasted opportunities. There is an understandable frustration, bearing in mind the revenue generated for the Exchequer compared to other islands. A constant bugbear I have is that my parents, who were married after the war, buried 40 years later in these islands, and who introduced me to the west coast, were not alive to have shared this experience with me. They would have been very proud I think.

What are your ambitions for the firm?
To make sure the distillery never closes again. By making Bruichladdich entirely self-sufficient it can live for ever as the name in single malt whisky - synonymous with quality, purity, innovation and variety. Not much really.

What are your top priorities?
Spreading the word about our natural whisky. A big industry player thought we had a marketing department of 25 people. We don't actually have a marketing department at all. We do not have the budgets of the large multinationals and so we rely on word of mouth. The internet is a very useful tool in leveling the playing field. We give as much information as we can so people can understand that what we do is real and not just fabricated folklore originating from a slick London-based marketing department. We never want to compromise on the quality. We have to compete with the Big Guys by offering the consumer a wide selection of interpretations of Bruichladdich. Different bottlings to suit different occasions and moods. All this is possible thanks to my colleague Jim McEwan's inspirational cask selection. By challenging established orthodoxies we can push the boundaries of the whisky world, blowing away all that Industry banality. Natural bottlings; experimenting with more flavoursome French oak; treble and even quadruple distillations; Islay grown and organic barley. For some so-called establishment "traditionalists" this is all a heresy, yet this is precisely what was happening in the 17th 18th and 19th centuries. We have so many new ideas. Harnessing that enthusiasm in the right direction is a constant battle. It's like riding a ginormous rolling wave of excitement. So far it's been an unforgettable experience, a mighty privilege. It's certainly been an emotional roller-coaster with plenty of difficult moments too. Job satisfaction for most is a high priority; for me that satisfaction is the encouragement we get from total strangers, the compliments about our latest dram - like our new18-year-old bottling.

What single thing would most help?
Patience is not just a virtue - it's a bloody necessity.

What was the most useful lesson you learned?
Respect: Ileachs are a law unto themselves, and long may that continue. I have had the fortune to meet some of the most passionate, warm and genuine people. Considerate, carefree, friendly, and helpful, they are the most hard-working, resilient and above all content people one could ever hope to meet. I don't think I could ever go back to my previous life.

How do you relax?
With my wife Maureen and six year old son Ruari - kicking a ball about, sailing up the west coast, salmon fishing, mucking about in boats, beach-combing, pottering about with tractors, trailers, tools and equipment, and savouring a 20-year-old Laddie with anyone who has happened to call on by.