Gravel weekend for women – when the road is the dventure

Heading off on your own with a fully-loaded motorbike into a maze of gravel tracks isn’t something everyone dares to do. So the idea arose to round up a group of women and do exactly that. Four of us met up—and made memories for life.

Dawn breaks icy in the tent and it’s time to pack up and ride to the meeting point at the OKQ8 petrol station in Laxå. The plan is to tackle sections of the Trans Euro Trail (TET) on gravel together with other women. I rode the same stretch solo last year and loved every metre—though it was tough: at half-past six in the evening I had to admit defeat and camp in a forest. Over the winter I thought, there must be others who’d like to try but haven’t yet taken the plunge, so I created an event inviting women to an overnight gravel ride. Now the weekend has finally arrived. Catarina has spent the night at the same campsite as I have, so we ride to OKQ8 together.

At the forecourt we meet Clara and Maria, who have sensibly booked a cabin for the trip. Our bikes are of a similar calibre: Catarina’s BMW 750 GS, Maria’s BMW 800 GS, Clara’s Tiger 800 XCx, and my smaller-engined Triumph Scrambler 400 X. The roads ahead range from hard-packed to loose gravel, and the bikes are perfect for it. After introductions and a quick breakfast, I take the lead and we set off towards Värmland. The track is close by and soon we’re on deeper gravel. We’re a bit rusty at first, but after a while we find a good rhythm. The adventure is on!

When plans go awry

After a couple of hours everything grinds to a halt. Cars block the route—turns out the World Rally Championship is in full swing. A collective groan: our GPS units failed to flag the diversion. Two friendly locals in hi-vis are marshalling traffic while we search for an alternative, but most of the roads nearby are closed for the rally. Eventually we choose a new route and hit the starters. Every bike fires up—except Clara’s. No joy. During the brief stop the Tiger’s battery has somehow gone flat, perhaps in silent protest at the rally.

One of the Värmland lads slips into rescue mode; he has a motocross background.
“Bump-start it in second, clutch out with a dab of throttle once you’ve got some speed,” he says, and the pushing begins.

But the Tiger digs its heels in every time the clutch is released. Our new friend helps us sprint for more momentum; Clara tries other gears—same result. He’s the most upbeat bloke I’ve met, yet even he realises it’s futile. We consider jump leads from the rally paddock, but in the end Clara calls her breakdown service. Lunch beckons, so we sit in the grass verge and picnic while waiting for the truck.

Twenty minutes later the recovery driver rolls up, hands in pockets and an expression that says he’d rather be watching the rally than fiddling with a bike. He mainly wants to winch it and go, but after a bit of persuasion he produces a jump-starter and—voilà—the Tiger roars to life! Relief all round. Clara and Maria decide to ride to Biltema in Karlstad for a new battery; we agree to rendezvous later and continue towards our overnight stop.

*When the bike won’t start, you might need to call for help. Always important to know your insurance terms!*

Catarina and I follow the earlier detour, yet again the rally blocks us and we divert onto asphalt. My energy dips, so we pause. Good news pings in from Karlstad: the battery’s bought and fitted. Adventure resumed. At the Biltema car park it’s buzzing; Clara and Maria are all smiles by their bikes, having had help from other riders when the new battery didn’t quite fit the tray. “It’s moments like these you remember,” one biker remarks—and he’s right. Crisis neatly solved.

Rerouting to camp

We leave the TET trail and plot a fresh route so we’ll reach camp at a sensible hour. The gravel doesn’t disappoint—just challenging enough late in the day. Fatigue sets in: my line through corners wavers and I drift worryingly close to a ditch, to Catarina’s dismay. Maria has a similar near-miss. Catarina, the most seasoned among us, is quick to read the signs. We pull in by a church and decide enough gravel for today; we’re tired. Handily, Värmskog Café is only 200 metres away—perfect for tea. Who turns down one of Sweden’s best prawn sandwiches? Certainly not me.

Destination reached

It’s nearly seven when we arrive at our accommodation. Malin greets us; she owns the farm with her husband Jonas. During the pandemic they noticed adventure bikes rumbling past on the gravel lane. One wet evening two German riders turned up on spec, looking for somewhere to sleep; the couple lent them a cabin. From that encounter grew the idea of a camping spot by the water. That was 2022, and many travellers have stayed since. The TET sign by the road is proof of their hospitality.

*Our campsite on night two. Could it get any cosier?*

Tents pitched and cabin claimed, we end up on the jetty. Catarina, Clara and Maria take their first dip of the year; I politely decline—another cold night under canvas awaits. As the sun sets we reflect on the day: brilliant roads, the Tiger’s hiccup sorted, and our main goal—riding gravel together—well and truly achieved. Clara, returning to biking after a break and having bought her machine just before the trip, says it feels exactly right. I can relate—felt the same about mine last year. Maria’s breaking in a brand-new bike and is now properly enjoying the gravel, daring to stand up more. Catarina is the cool one—15 years of off-road experience and trips abroad; she’s full of solid tips for staying steady on the loose surface. Comparing the nerves of the morning to now, we’re four women whose confidence has grown in just a short time—mine included. It’s fantastic.

*We did it! A lovely evening by the water, reflecting on the day. Photo by Catarina Norén.*

A memory for life

Next day we ride home on the section of the TET we had to skip. The weather is still perfect, the gravel rises and falls like a roller-coaster. All good things must come to an end—and so must a gravel weekend. We part company, certain this trip will be a lifelong memory. All it took was motorbikes, gravel roads and a group of women hungry for adventure. I hope the weekend inspires more rides—you don’t have to overcomplicate things, and plans are made to be rewritten.

If you fancy heading out on your own motorbike adventure, my advice is simply: just do it. There’s no right or wrong. It’s your journey, and whatever doesn’t feel right first time you’ll fix the next—because, trust me, there will be a next time.