In its heyday, the consciousness of Inverness didn’t merely exist: it was on unapologetic, if low-key, parade. As an East Coast refugee arriving in 1971, I was astounded. Who were these people, dancing like loons around fires at Drake’s Bay—men and women, old-timers and newcomers, gray-haired

You've reached subscriber-only content

Free 3-day trial

Already a subscriber? Log in here.