Lilletraffen

The venue is huge. It's a holiday park the rest of the time. Tents, caravans, cottages (cabins), apartments. Ernst and Johan have secured two six birth apartments. I am to go in with Johan and crew. The financial logistics have been interesting over the last few months. My thanks to Ernst for bank rolling my share to save me the unreasonable BACs charges.

My first sight of the apartment block sitting perched on a hill under a cliff with views out to sea and cruise ships on the horizon, should have been idyllic. It was not. There are maybe 12 apartments. VMCK has three. The rest are the weekend camp for scores of hooligan bikers. They have sound systems with speakers a metre tall booming out their music ( note to self, if the music is too loud, you are too old!). A huge inflatable pool filled with all of the blocks hot water, provides a medium for aquatic drunkenness. Johan and crew are missing. They arrived yesterday and have burrowed under the wire. In Ernst's apartment we can hardly speak above the music (rhythmic, with a melody and lyrics, so I guess it is). Ernst and Janne are going into Visby on a foraging mission. I am not needed, but take off with them anyway. I need to regroup. Temper under control I returned with them an hour and a half later. Johan and gang are back and planning an evening escape into town for dinner. It is unanimous. We are all going.

Dinner in Visby was Italian and very civilised. This is honestly the stuff great vacations are made of. A strong pound Stirling takes away a lot of the pain of buying Swedish beer. Still I am staying sober. I am not confident on the traffen site. Drunken behaviour is getting worse. Johan's lot got no sleep last night. The bedlam continued pretty much until breakfast and beyond. Back at base we go to the beach where it is quiet. Many of the VMCK camping contingent are here. I hear I told you so a little. Camping in a remote corner amongst tightly packed trees has given them a quieter location. They are nicely set up. Back at the apartments the party is in full swing. Drunken young men ride their motorbikes around the park doing burn outs, wheelies, stoppies etc. One guy sozzled and swooping in drunken loops managed to hit the only obsticle in an arc of 120 degrees, a tree. Crunch! he is flipped forward in a summer salt, to land on his back, fall asleep and start snoring. This incident or similar is repeated ad nausiam. Ear plugs in and to bed sober. The pounding of the music can be felt if no longer completely heard. Relative silence at last, maybe 2:30.

5AM. I have no idea why the teenager felt the need to go out to the bike park, switch on his KTM, and rev the nuts off it. Tony is angry. Johan and Matts, grim but resigned. I am amazed. A teenage boy who has not discovered masturbation!!

Breakfast was mostly quiet. The brats are sleeping it all off at last. We ride out to explore the north of  Gotland, catching the small free ferry to Faro. Everyone is a little tired today but it doesn't spoil our enjoyment of this special place. Crepes in the afternoon sunshine with strong coffee, then the long ride back to the mad house. That evening having relaxed a little with my surroundings, we all get into the party mood in the main hall. England beat Sweden at soccer so I keep my mouth shut. I dislike some of our players but it is impossible not to be delighted when we win. Then the band are playing with the sexiest saxophonist I ever saw. A big blond Swedish girl who would scare the shit out of me, if only.

The final day it rained persistently until 3. A soggy exploration of Visby town is in order. Lots of coffee and ice cream, and more than a few cakes are consumed before we return in anticipation of the prize giving ceremony. I have to be in contention for the furthest travelled.

I travelled the furthest but they gave the prize to a guy from Boden instead. Hey ho. Actually I sulked but being English would not complain. Our ferry back to the mainland isn't until 4:20 PM so we kill more hours in Visby, tiring ourselves out in preparation for the long ride home. Even an hours shut eye on the ferry couldn't remove the effects of persistent sleep deprivation.

Let me be clear. Time spent riding with friends is always a joy and I would not have missed the opportunity to visit the island of Gotland again. If you don't try something new, you learn nothing. I actually know myself a little better from this experience.

Sitting at the top of the gravel slope down to Roland's at 10:30 pm in the drizzle. I dismount to take the kinks out of my legs. Maybe I should leave Elsa at the top and walk in tonight. Nope. Cramming chocolate gave me a sugar surge and I'm awake. All the way down without the old girl wagging her tail once. Job done. Feeling totally exhausted I went to bed to sleep a fortnight hopefully.