Inside the million-pound Swedish stand-off

Such was the alcoholic content of this particular amigo and his horse, if gravitational pull had overcome his diminishing ability to remain upright, the fireball would have been spotted from outer space.

Mexico had come to Rally Sweden. And a good time - a great time - was being had by all. The sombrero-wearer in question had clearly been thirsty for much of the day and was now reliant on a pal to keep him out of their roaring and splendidly atmospheric fire.

In the end it all got a bit much for the big man. He went for a walk, slipped in the snow and cartwheeled his way down the bank into a heap at the bottom. And fell asleep.

Was he Mexican? Almost certainly not. Was the horse he was 'riding' real? Absolutely not. Was he having the time of his life? Undoubtedly.

That was Svullrya on Friday. On Saturday, the sombrero and sunnies took their wood, whisky and pin-up cacti to Colin's Crest. Where they proceeded to have the time of their life for the second day in succession.

This particular jump in the Vargasen stage demonstrates how Rally Sweden has evolved. When Colin McRae was flying higher, further, faster and longer than anybody else, this was...well, it was a jump in the Vargasen stage.

Under Glenn Olsson's new regime it became Colin's Crest, a destination all of its own. One now considerably better known than the stage itself.

Every year it gets better. The tunes get louder, the drinks longer. The parties harder.

That Eyvind Brynildsen broke the record for the longest leap (45 metres, one more than Thierry Neuville's record from last year) almost went unnoticed. By that point, a good portion of the crowd had, quite possibly, forgotten there was even a rally on.

Colin's Crest is a stunning success story, not least for the way it assembles the often uneasy mix of hardcore fans and corporate guests shoulder-to-shoulder for a day's entertainment between the trees.

Fans huddle together for one of the best sights on the calendar: WRC cars flying over Colin's Crest © XPB

The atmosphere's very West Car Park, Twickenham (post-England win), except louder, boozier and with marginally more cars flying 40-plus metres at 100mph.

There's plenty about Sweden that's changed. Like five hours of live coverage on the domestic terrestrial broadcaster. For Brits, that's five hours on the BBC. And some say the World Rally Championship's still circling the doldrums, looking for a wave to ride.

That's definitely not the case in Sweden. Granted, there's no title sponsor, but the commercial model this rally has built sets it firmly on the crest of a wave.

So, how come last week came so close to being the last ever Rally Sweden?

Seriously. Colin's Crest could so easily have fallen silent last Saturday.

Less than a week before the Vargasen stage was due to go live, Olsson didn't want to get out of bed. What was the point? His world had gone south. Rally Sweden was slowly disappearing down the toilet.

Minus 30 had warmed up 36 degrees. Near gale-force winds whipped away metres of snow, leaving scraps to be washed away by torrential rain.

"The gut feeling was very bad this time," says Olsson with the honesty of a man who had been taken to the limit in the last seven days. "There was nothing in the forecast to give us hope. Nothing."

Finally, a glimmer. The hope of cold. Out of bed and on with it.

What followed was an unbelievable turnaround in fortunes. With full faith in a forecast that promised a return south of zero degrees on Thursday, the recce was put back by a day.

"We knew what the roads were like," says Olsson, "we knew we would lose some of them."

A revised itinerary cut eight of the 21 stages - with a further test falling during the event.

"But we knew we could work on the roads after the recce and then they would freeze in 24 hours," he adds.

Drivers raised their concerns about safety ahead of the event

Team managers were told of the plan. The managers told the drivers the plan. The drivers drove the roads and went into meltdown.

Forget it. This was Wales, and a wet Wales at that. This was not a winter round.

No, sorry, it couldn't be done.

But what about the plan?

Forget the plan, it's not going to happen. It's dangerous to try.

Dangerous.

There's that word. The one that stops pretty much everything in its tracks. When motorsport's governing body hears the word dangerous, its FIA ears are duty-bound to be pricked. If a driver has labelled something as unsafe and no action is taken, what will be left if the worst possible scenario plays out?

Ultimately, as Citroen team principal Yves Matton said on Sunday: "I saw nothing to suggest this event was dangerous..."

Of course Rally Sweden's dangerous. Like every motorsport event, it says so on the back of your ticket. But last week was no more dangerous than any other Rally Sweden.

Still the drivers banged the drum - and actually tried to bring the rally to a halt on Friday morning by threatening to boycott the Torsby stage.

They wanted, they demanded, a greater say in the way things play out. I have absolutely no problem with the drivers' desire to have a collective voice - it makes sense for them to have representation beyond the team managers.

But, let's face it, if the majority of the drivers had had their way, last week wouldn't have happened. Best-case scenario, Rally Sweden would likely have been a one-day affair run on Friday's entirely workable Norwegian stages. Worst-case, this great event would have been lost for good.

And that's not being dramatic. It's a fact. Eighty per cent of the costs, the infrastructure spend, had been laid out. In Olsson's own estimation, cancelling would have cost £1.55million.

"There was no way back from that," he says.

This potential fiscal loss was at the heart of the drivers' frustration. The WRC Promoter, the rally organisers and the FIA, they said, were putting Olsson's millions and the potential loss of live powerstage pictures before their safety.

Some stages - like Mikkelsen's Polo R WRC - took a bit of a battering © LAT

I can understand that feeling. At times it certainly looked that way. On Thursday night, with the mercury still steadfastly refusing to be tempted south of freezing point, I agreed with the drivers and sympathised.

Then I looked deeper. Afforded far more time than the crews, I sought out the organisational hierarchy and looked long and hard at what was going on behind the scenes.

With the stakes so high, the rally organisers come into their own. In Sweden last week, the team was fighting for its very survival. Nothing was too much for them. Snow was trucked into the ceremonial start, stages watered and watered again. If the weather was going to come, they had to be in the best shape possible to make the most of it.

Late Thursday, Michele Mouton made a final sweep through Torsby. It was happening.
"For me," she said, finally emerging from a very long day in the driving seat, "it's good to run Torsby."

For the first time, the team dared to believe. The shockingly long days were about to pay dividends.

The weather came. They were saved. Sweden would live to fight another year. Another three years following the announcement of a new deal with WRC Promoter.

Undoubtedly, in the light of last week, there will be significant change coming to the event - if it doesn't, such complacency can't and won't be tolerated.

In the end, Sebastien Ogier was happy to admit that everything had turned out right. Deservedly, he'd won the event, but possibly even more deservedly the organisers had won bigger.

Yes, the drivers were right to raise their concerns. But there's a system in place, a system that worked last week. If Torsby hadn't been safe, they wouldn't have started the stage - regardless of the fact it was going live on Swedish telly.

The potential for serious danger was ever-present in the run-up to the rally. But it simply didn't materialise. And holding an event - not to mention 10s of thousands of fans - to ransom, without even having handed over a ransom note complete with their demands was, to my mind, unreasonable.

What we need now is open discussion from all parties and an agreement to move forward in Mexico.

The crews and the FIA need to find some mutual trust and common ground. And sooner rather than later.