Singletrack/MTB
Gravel/All-road
Dirt-road Touring
Fat-bike
Despite rough weather on the first day, the annual Bicycle Adventure Meeting (BAM!), welcomed nearly 10,000 people to the 2026 event in northern Italy for three days dedicated to celebrating all things bicycle-related. Two German artists, Arkadij and Jule, pedaled and painted 1,300 kilometers through Italy to the event where they presented their work. Find a written recap from Jule and an inspiring collection of photos from the organizers here…
Words by Jule Borths, photos by Jule, Arkadij, Nicola Damonte, and BAM!
By Friday afternoon, we finally arrived. The garden of the Palazzo in Piazzola was humming with the kind of energy that only exists before an adventure. Colorful tents appeared beneath the trees. Bicycles of every shape and size leaned against centuries-old walls. Snippets of conversation in countless languages drifted through the air.
My partner Arkadij and I had arrived at BAM!, the bicycle adventure meeting in northern Italy. Beforehand, we had heard all kinds of descriptions of BAM!. “The Woodstock for Bikes” was one of them. To be honest, our expectations were high, but we had also came here to contribute.
Just before arriving in Piazzola, Arkadij and I had completed our so-called plein-air bikepacking trip through southern Italy. The route, 1,300 kilometers long, took us through Calabria and Sicily over the course of a month, while adding an extra activity to the journey: painting the landscape.
For centuries, artists have dreamed of traveling to Italy to study ancient art and architecture and gather inspiration from the old masters. Since my own work has always been about connecting art and cycling, it felt only natural to explore Italy by bicycle while painting along the way.
Equipped with two gravel bikes, 80 acrylic markers, painting boards, and the essentials for sleeping outdoors, we embarked on this journey at the beginning of May. Let me take you back to this beautiful garden.
First things first, whenever you arrive somewhere, whether it is a festival or a campsite for the night, pitch the tent and get everything ready. This would pay off later.
After a trip to the local supermarket to stock up on a huge mozzarella braid and fresh tomatoes, we entered the festival grounds. All our friends had gathered around the Cycled Project booth, where we met our host for the afternoon, Silvio. Not only is he one of the owners of Cycled Project, but he and his brother also produce Prosecco. The first bottle, ceremonially opened with a giant pair of scissors, was soon empty. Stories from the road were exchanged.
How do you encounter barking street dogs in remote areas? Where is the next supply spot? While discussing all of this, we sliced the tomatoes on the smallest chopping board, along with the mozzarella, and shared them from a large plastic bowl.
Our main goal for the evening was simple: attend the screening of “Mountain and Trees” and avoid getting too involved in the Prosecco tasting. We had heard rumors of rain expected later that night, but we were not prepared for a real thunderstorm.
We had just settled into comfortable beach chairs to watch the film. Nearby, ten bicycles whirred away, powering the entire screening. The rain began gently but quickly turned into a relentless downpour. Within minutes, it became clear that there would be no movie tonight.
Instead, I found myself huddled beneath a pavilion with dozens of other people, everyone smiling, talking, and waiting for the storm to pass. When we eventually ran back to our tent, I sank ankle-deep into puddles.
By Saturday morning, the festival grounds had transformed into a muddy landscape of slippery paths. The BAM! team secured us an early-morning talk slot to present our project Desire Path Through Italy. Together with Pietro, who hosted the talks, we introduced our artistic practice from the road and shared what we had discovered during the journey. The exhibition of artworks was stacked on our bicycles and consisted of 36 paintings in various sizes. Our paintings focus on the abstraction of nature, combining organic forms with a vibrant color palette.
After a well-deserved caffè lungo and cornetto, we set off on a short bike ride in search of more Italian food. After all, a festival about bicycles should include some riding, I guess. Together with our friends, we explored the gravel tracks along the River Brenta. It was smooth sailing in good company and a carbonara in between.
The musical highlight arrived around 11 p.m. when a DJ and a bass guitarist took to the main stage for a two-hour journey through the music of the last three decades. The energy in front of the stage was powerful. For a moment, I forgot I was at a bike festival. Everyone was singing, dancing, and celebrating. There was even a mosh pit.
Looking back, BAM! felt like the perfect ending to our month on the road.
Our journey through Calabria and Sicily had been the slowest bicycle trip we have ever undertaken. That is not because we were slow, but painting demanded a completely different rhythm. Pleinair bikepacking comes with many challenges. The extra gear we carry, for example, but the weather is the most obvious opponent. Wind, rain, or heat can end a painting session instantly. On Mount Etna, we were caught in a thunderstorm with rain and hail and had to stop immediately and try to pack wet paintings into our bags.
The daily basics are just as demanding. Finding a place to sleep, organizing food and water, staying clean, and repeating the process day after day requires constant organization. And not every place is inspiring. Even when a landscape catches your interest, it’s not always paintable.
Traveling like this is a journey filled with the most unexpected moments. A hidden viewpoint discovered by chance, a conversation with a stranger, an unplanned campsite, or an afternoon spent painting a landscape that had never been part of the route.
Traveling slowly created space for reflection for us and our practice. Day after day, moving through the landscape by bicycle while observing it closely enough to paint, I found myself noticing details that would otherwise have passed by. In many ways, the paintings became a record of this riding pace. They are not simply images of places, but traces of time spent within them.
“They are not simply images of places, but traces of time spent within them.”
Standing among thousands of cyclists at BAM!, sharing stories and our artworks, we realized that this was perhaps the greatest lesson of the journey. Slowing down does not mean missing out. Quite the opposite. It creates room for discovery, reflection, and the unexpected encounters that stay with us long after the road has disappeared behind us.
Learn more about some of the previous BAM! events in the Further Reading grid below, and then head to BAMEurope.it for more.
Further Reading
Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...
Please keep the conversation civil, constructive, and inclusive, or your comment will be removed.
