What did you do on saturday night?

The car trundled along the dirt track twisting its way through the trees. Marek turned to the passenger seat and reported on our progress; '2500m, what now?' The guy in the passenger seat glanced at the paper covered in a grid of boxes, each containing a direction. 'After 2500m we take the track forking off right for another 1000m.' The car went right and we continued on our way. 'Ok, around this corner, then we go straight on.' We turned the corner and advanced upon a very unwelcome sight. The five of us exchanged glances and I took a deep breath. Up ahead was a miniature traffic jam. A skoda had stopped behind a land rover. In between the cars was a tree that had fallen across the track. The land rover had obviously managed to get over the tree but the skoda, like us and the heavily pregnant friend following in a car behind us, was stuck.

We were in the middle of the countryside near Poznan, on our way to a party. This was no ordinary party though, we had been told to meet someone an hour earlier at a petrol station and receive our directions - a grid of symbols and distances with no address and no map. The directions took us on winding roads through cornfields, on roughly beaten tracks through forests and now, up to a fallen tree that was blocking our way.

We had no idea where we were and each direction on the grid followed from the previous one so it was vital that we get to the other side of the tree. The skoda drivers were local and thought they knew a different track that would bring us round to the right point, so we decided to trust them and follow. Unfortunately for us, once we had all turned around, argued about the right way to go about it, vowed that we were not opening the emergency envelope that we had been provided with and cursed the fact that we weren't in an ATV, the skoda had disappeared in a cloud of dust.

The next half an hour was spent getting ourselves deeper and deeper into the woods, searching for any clue that we were on the right track until we found ourselves back in a little village we had passed some time ago. After another bit of arguing and asking locals for any help they were prepared to offer, we were scooped up by one of the party organisers, who took us to a point further along the route, and allowed us to complete the journey on our own.

When we finally came upon a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by an army of jeeps and land rovers we knew we had finally made it. The off-roading nuts who were giving the party greeted us with cold beers and demanded that we tell them the extended story of our adventure.

A little while later, we were drawn outside by an enormous cloud of dust racing towards the house, a pirate flag waving in the wind and the sound of tremendous machinery coupled with a deep insistent horn. As it approached, we saw this huge amphibious tank thing. This was not the kind of party I was used to.

I'm not a fan of army things. I'm not generally impressed by big guns, or powerful engines that make lots of noise, but this beast was pure fun.

As the rainclouds rolled in the dusk was lit by lightening. We rode around the surrounding fields on a course of hills and sudden drops. We screamed with the speed and laughed at the rumbling power, then we went round again. It beats rollercoasters let me tell you.

The rest of the party was usual party stuff. Drinking, dancing, talking. I suddenly decided that I'd had enough of speaking Polish and made the delightful discovery that if you just start speaking English to people they deal with it pretty well. Once the sun had come up over the cornfields and we'd grabbed a couple of hours sleep, I was greeted in English by everyone I came across, including one guy I could swear I had never seen before, but that's parties for you.

If I invite you to a party in the future, get your jeep and compass ready.