Last night I met two cyclists from Chippenham, Wilts. Dick Stangier and Steve Lile, 77 and 64 respectively. They had cycled from Oslo to Eisberg. [almost the full length of Sweden].

I said my goodbyes and set off after breakfast, destination not sure, as usual. Rain and the prospect of the 26km sea bridge ahead left me tingling with excitement and trepidation.

The crossing from Denmark to Sweden consists of three bridges, I called them the three bears. A baby bridge of a few hundered metres, A mummy bridge , several kilometres and the daddy bridge which curved across the sea for ever. The cross winds were notorious with little or no protection for a motorcycle.

The first bridge lived up to its name, easy peasy. Mummy bridge was tough with gusty winds playing with me like a toy. I stopped just before the "daddy" composing myself, when a group of Harley Davidsons went flying by. These guys had no screens and were going at a fair old lick. That gave me some confidence so I followed them.

 The daddy bridge did not disappoint, The wind was furious and battered me and Bess constantly. The group of bikers had completed the bridge and were in conversation with the occupants of a BMW. I paid my toll and then I realized what was unfolding as a package was passed from the car to one of the bikers. Suddenly all attention was directed at me as the bikers gestured toward me as they jumped onto there bikes.

What had just gone on? Was I being paranoid? No , I know what I saw and these guys were heading toward me. Bess flew like the wind, she didn't need prompting." Welcome to Sweden" the sign said. The rain lashed down and the wind battered us, as I raced down the duel carriageway. 90,100,110 mph. They were in pursuit , there headlights bobbing and jocking for position. Then, having passed a lorry, a car with caravan pulled out behind me coming between me and them. This gave me chance to lose them. 30 miles on they eventually gave up. All good fun I say sitting at my desk back home.
Later , into my journey I discovered that that particular border is used frequently for carrying drugs from Germany. So perhaps it was not paranoia after all .

I had ridden from Malmo to Goteborg, approx 200km. Time to ease myself out of the saddle. I pulled over in the middle of Goteborg. The city was busy. I watch a while, the traffic cruising by and people milling on the street.

My next job was to find a hostel. No sooner did the thought enter my head when a large BMW pulled up beside me. Fortunately it wasn't the car I seen earlier at the bridge. A smart couple got out and greeted me with a smile. Linda and Pele spoke perfect English and guided me through the city to an old church which was now a hostel.

Pele accompanied me in to negotiate a room for the night. We were both surprised to find the church was full of people in fancy-dress. A party was underway. There was no room at the inn!. Pele lead me to another hostel where I was more successful in securing a bed for the night and a locked garage for Bess. I thanked my new found friends and they left. Since that meeting , we have remained in touch and they have recently got engaged. Congratulations Linda and Pele and many thanks for your help.

Goteborg was full that weekend with many visitors. There had been a marathon earlier that day. I was lucky to get a bed. Early to bed for me , enough excitement for one day.

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