The End of Romance — Krulli Park Last Dance.

Jarmo Kangro, framed by chaos, captured by Lauri Täht.

Krulli’s gone, but the ghost still grinds. Our holy plywood jungle, carved out of sweat, blood, and speed madness, now drifts into memory. It wasn’t just a park—it was a battlefield, a cathedral, a circus of tail-smacks and chaos.

And like every great session, it ends not with silence but with echoes, growling in the gloom , laughter ricocheting off the walls, and the promise that legends don’t die, they just kickturn into the Chronicles.

Girls stormed the park and claimed the first lines.

Krulli’s doors have slided shut, but the spirit still howls in the autumn. This was our last dance in the temple—wheels shrieking, boards cracking, bones broken (sorry Grisha), bodies bruised and grinning under the flicker of dead lights.

Krulli may be gone, but its echoes rattle in our bones. The sessions fade, but the legend rolls forever.

To be continued…

Thanks to Kusti — you’re the man!

Kickturns unlocked: Zelda claimed her rite of passage.

Krulli welcomed Leo’s first rides and on Saturday he carved a tribute session to Tallinn’s rula sanctuary!

Release the beasts! Kristjan Eier, master of ceremonies, wielding the bullhorn until it nearly lost its own voice!

Tom Seppanen, Monty grind.

Love seat conquered: Jarmo Kangro shows size matters in crail-slides.

Oskar Sikk, show-thief supreme, twisting tricks under the ecstatic gaze of everyone watching.

Elegance on wheels — Jaak Tänava owned the lines with pure style.

Lightning on wheels: Siim Sild, faster than anyone could blink.

Inverted and in command, Meelis Erm had eyes on every corner of Krulli.

Spectacle absorbed, curiosity ignited—the next generation smelled chaos in the air.

From Tartu to Krulli, the city’s spirit joined the party in unison.

Grisha Barbashin, a mountain on a board. The broken leg? Proof of devotion. Every move a sacrifice to the skate gods!

Youth incarnate: Oskar Sikk tearing through Krulli with no brakes.

Grisha Barbashin, again defying limits, his four-wheel offerings echoing through the park.

Mark Aksel Meri, climbing the impossible—boards, guts, and glory!

In the eye of the storm, Tom Seppanen stayed smooth, steady, and untouchable.

Old wolf alert! Maik Grüner never misses a chance to haunt Krulli.

Egbert Pahhomov.

Ralf Rasmus.

Meelis Erm.

The end, they say. Yet the echoes refuse to die.

All together, all mad, all rolling—Krulli is family!

Iago Bresciani, last dance—unstoppable, untouchable, pure chaos on wheels.

Finnish finesse: Joel Juuso carving Krulli with ice-cold control.

Meelis Erm’s run shredded the deck to pieces—wild beyond words.

The couch survived no peace—Jarmo Kangro was on a mission.

Eyes wide, hearts racing—Rainer Kaur and the crew cheered every line.

Meelis Erm.

Iago Bresciani.

Liidia Maier, camera in hand, joy radiating as she documented the madness.

Andris Kaldvee, a master of control and flair—Krulli bows to him.

Meelis Erm, down but not out !

Got the vibe? Joel Juuso owned it.

And the prize ! From the hands of Kusti ! honnor is what he gets!

The move that stole the session—Meelis owned it like no one else could.

Nils‑Eerik Vesberg, all night fueling the crowd with his delicious preps! Hats off to the legend!

Grumpy old men, no on the look of their face just pure fun here !

Meelis gave it all, the old Krulli bowed, the new one waits… oh shuuuu, secrets about to drop!