I sat on the shore of the Trondheim Fjord—the third-largest fjord in Norway—gazing out across the water. On the walk here, across railway bridges and past gargantuan cruise ships, I felt a profound sense of unease, of fear.
Some of it was the fear that always comes before public speaking—that evening, I was going to launch a beer brewed in collaboration with Austmann Bryggeri, during an event titled “Meeting Lily Waite”—no biggie. A gray mist was edging across the water, a fallen cloud wiping out the view as if it were chalk from a slate. Rain fell, a light tap-tap-tap on my body that grew faster and more frenetic. I sat watching the storm. As it began to shift, and left the opposite shore, my fear departed, too.
I returned the next day. I walked out farther than before, and sat along the rocky wall of the small harbor. As though the seasons had flipped overnight, there was not a single cloud to temper the pale sky. That same calm prevailed, along with a profound sense of wonder, deep into my lungs and bones. Sadness, too; that I could not remain here and gaze upon distant mountains—or stay longer to discover more of Trondheim’s flourishing beer scene. Next time, maybe.
Words + PhotoLily Waite