Rodeo Italy: The beauty of riding Together

Exhaustion in the primary sensation that stands out as I sit here, on Delta flight 0239, en route from Venice, Italy to New York’s JFK airport. I’m continuing on from there to Denver, Colorado, and am returning from the first ever Rodeo Labs Summer Camp, which we hosted with a tremendous group of people, in the Dolomite mountains of Italy. My body feels the exhaustion, and my mind feels something else, more accurately an intense mixture of things, but I can’t quite decide what that something else is.

What just happened? What did we just do?

Rodeo is completing the lap of it’s 11th year right now, and I’m completing more than four times that myself. It’s all had me more in my head, in my thoughts, lately. I’ve been thinking about what has transpired in the last decade. I’ve been thinking about where we’ve come from, and where we are going.

In multi day bicycle stage races, which grind on for weeks at a time, a group forms at the back of the race, made up of tired riders, sprinters, and people just generally hanging on to the pace, trying to make the time cut for the day so that they are able to wake up and do the next stage tomorrow. This group in the back is called the laughing group. In the front of the race it’s all about the limelight, jousting, and victory. In the laughing group it is comraderie, encouragemet, and the collective determination to surive.

To me the early days of Rodeo felt like being in our own laughing group. Yeah, we were cyclists through and through, but by creating the team that we were, we had written our own permission slips to ride and gather as we saw fit. Ride and gather we did, relentlessly.

Locally, Rodeo was constantly lunch riding, coffee riding, training, racing, and most definitely adventuring togher. We used to throw open invite concept rides called Rodeo Rallies, (or was it Rallys?). Rallies would have many tens of people heading out for early overnight bikepacking expeditions, or jaunts out east in search of ghost towns on the Colorado plains. One Rally climbed into the Colorado Rockies under a massive blood moon, greeted by a desperately powerful downpour of rain, later to be handed glazed donuts with sprinkles at 10,000ft of elevation from a follow car. We descended back to Denver, a constellation of headlights and whoops, collectively tingling with how unexpectedly sparkling a night ride can be.

I am, at my core, a cyclist. Rodeo is, at it’s core, an Adventure Lab. Our name is who we are. Time wears at a thing like a glacier though, and over the last decade time has shaped Rodeo into a bike company. This is a deeply satisfying reality, and I’m proud of the two wheeled conveyances that we’ve been fortunate enough to put into the world. I want to continue to be a bike company for a long, long time. But Rodeo did not start with any intent to be a bike company. Rodeo was a community of people riding together. Rodeo was friends. Rodeo was a laughing group. That was the most beautiful thing we’ve ever been. I say this through the rose tinted lenses of nostalgia, of course, and through the foggy lense of the fatige that being a bike company drapes you in. But I believe it: I belive riding bikes together will always be the most beautiful expression of Rodeo, far more so than the custom dream bike company that we’ve somehow found ourselves being.

The group rides went dark in recent years. Key riders came and went. External factors confounded our abilies to gether. Business grew, and the comlexity of it overwhelmed the simplicity that enabled chosing a time, a route, and putting out an open invite.

in 2023 Mike Smith, one of our very early Rodeo riders and customers reached out with the idea of hosting a Rodeo gathering down south in Florida, where he lives. We decided that spring and summer months were already packed, and that we should find an empty spot in the calendar in January in which to host it so that as many people as possible could come. The Southern Migration was born. About 45 people from all over the country joined us that weekend on a three day self supported bikepacking rally through the dirt roads and moss-draped trees that define the area around Oceloa. Southern Migration was an incredible idea brought to life by Mike, lead by Karlos, and organized by Rodeo. There were as many non Rodeo riders riding with us that weekend as there were Rodeo riders, which is exactly as it should be. Kinship was formed in the miles that we pedaled together. Friendships deepened. Our mutual passion shared in chats by the fires each evening. Through the experience I was reminded that our DNA contained dormant strands of this very thing. I felt reminded of who we were before we became who we are. I was excited for it, and I was also sad for having lost it somehwere in the shuffle of the decade.

Inspired by the success of the first Southern Migration, we planned and ran a second event, once again with the help of Karlos and Mike. We once agian were joined by an eclectic group, and were also joined by eclectic weather, including the first snow storm that Northern Florida and Southern Georgia had experienced in decades.

It became clear to me that Rodeo needed to get back to the act of riding together on a regular rythm. We had hundreds, thousands of riders spread across the world on our bikes. Had they bought a soul-less appliance, or were they riding a piece of a unique culture, one that they intrinsicly understood whether or not it was ever explicitly defined or put into words? I hoped, I hope, that the latter is true.

Next up I myself planned an hosted the White Rim invitational, wherein 10 Rodeo (and some non-Rodeo) riders joined me for an overnight excursion on Moab’s 100 mile White Rim trail. This event was once again an experiment. White Rim is incredibly remote. Self sufficiency is a must, as is a bit of bravery. We started late in the day on the frist evening and intentionally rode into the desert night, looking for challenges and experiences that only the desert can provide. Everyone pushed, some to their limits, and completed the route beautifully. Again the gathering was the space needed for our passions for bikes, life, and adventure to be formed. I made a number of new friends on that trip, and brushed up with some that I hadn’t shared miles with in a long time.

Rodeo can be whatever we set our intentions to. This was my learning from all of these events. I became intent on experiencing this better expression of who we are more often, and imagined what we could do next.

In 2024 I traveled to Italy in order to participate in the Veneto Trail, a 350 mile bike tour / race through the Dolomites. I entered alone, seeking some time to immerse myself in a totally new place, with permission to focus on what I was experiencing instead of having the responsibility for the dynamic of a group of people. I think some people call this sort of thing self care. Others call it going to the well of inspiration for a deep drink. When I arrived, Ugo Rebeschini, who leads our Rodeo effort in Europe, picked me up from the airport and told me that he had organized a group ride for some Rodeo locals who lived in the Veneto region of Italy. We drove to a farm in a small valley in the Dolomites above the city of Belluno. Not only had I not planned this event, I also knew nothing of it, or what to expect of it. I was at the ride, and along for the ride, both.

The ride was amazing. There were about ten of us, and I knew only Ugo. Everyone was aboard a Rodeo bike that Ugo had built and sold. I knew none of these people, but somehow they were a part of our tribe, and I a part of theirs. The ages varied widely from 30s to 60s, and absolutely everyone ripped on a bike! Far from a chill champagne gravel expereince, the route, drawn by the owner of the farm, Fulcio, was an incredibly diverse mix of pavement, grass farm tracks, root strewn technical descents, quiet bike paths through towering canyons, and more. What was this place! Who were these people who “got” our style of riding but did it better than we did? Italy seemed to have its own dose of Rodeo DNA, thanks in no way to myself, and I loved it! That evening we gathered around a long table and ate pasta, drank wine, coffee, and grappa together. We talked and talked and talked. Or rather, they talked in rapid fire bursts of Italian, and I just sat there listening because I speak really none at all. I wasn’t bothered in the least. The sounds, tastes, shared passion, and friendliness transcended the langage barrier.

I loved that ride, I loved that day, and I knew that I wanted to go back. I had to return to Belluno, to ride with these people again, and to bring others with me. I wanted to share what I expereinced with other riders who might love it too.

After White Rim in February I finally found some time to pin a date on the calendar and plant the Rodeo Italy Summer Camp seed in the ground for this August. At first all we had was a save the date. The open invite went out across the internet, and immediately brave riders began to sign up. Some I knew, but nearly all I didn’t know at all. The pitch was simple: Let’s all go to Italy. Let’s ride in the mountains. Let’s eat together. Let’s see what happens.

In retrospect that’s a pretty vague invite, so much so that I think some people who signed up became a bit frustrated by the lack of further information on what exactly Rodeo Summer Camp entailed. Did we have routes? Did we have a schedule? Did we have guides? Did we have amenities? This lack of clarity is the blessing and curse of Rodeo. For sure the unknown was intimidating and difficult to plan for. At the same time, this is not Rodeo Dream Tours, this is Rodeo Adventure Labs. Our middle name indicates a certain amount of anything-can-happen.

Behind the scenes the true hero of this entire event went to work in a big way: Ugo arranged for lodging, costed out meals, booked guides, pre-rode routes, and called I think nearly every hotel in the Dolmites looking for a place that could host 20-25 crazy bike riders for a two day out and back excursion in the latter peak of the summer season. Of all of the dozens (or hundreds) of hotels that Ugo called, exactly one single hotel had space for our group welcomed us in. On the Rodeo America side I was swallowed up by a year of tariffs, staff shortage issues, intense sales volume, and the general commerce of being a bike company. On the Rodeo Italy side, Ugo was quietly orchestrating a trip with a level of finesse that I’m still only now beginning to fully realize.

I can’t say that events like this are all fun. The true mental arc of running any sort of bike gathering, for me starts with a moment of inspiration followed by a wide and optimistic invite, followed by a quick dose of “what have I done?”. The enormity of being responsible for an event, and the weight of expectations that everyone is bringing to an event can be crushing. Moreso, the logistical challenge of creating a week of safe, comfortable, fun, and inspiring rides for a very diverse group of riders is, in retrospect, absolutely impossible to get right – except for the fact that I think that Ugo somehow pulled of some sort of rookie event organizer miracle.

Rodeo Summer Camp was a bit rough around the edges, and it was more than a bit damp on some days. The routes were, to put it mildly, “frizzante”, which is the word that Italians use to describe fizzy bubbly water. Anyone (read: Also me) who had arrived expecting some sort of Tuscan vineyard Strade Biance gran fondo bike tour quickly realized that Belluno adventure riding is Belluno ADVENTURE riding.

There is nearly nothing flat to ride in the Dolomites. Mere gravel roads, though sometimes found, are the exception not the rule in the region. Instead, goat trails, grassel two tracks, steeeeeeep inclines, and rowdy detours greeted us on nearly every outing. On one hand my mind was screaming “what in the world have we done, we’re torturing a bunch of strangers with a bunch of sadistic underbiking!”. On the other hand I was thinking “I haven’t ridden a collection of routes more unfiltered and unscripted in years, if ever!”.

Each night riders slept in farmhouse rooms or shared bunkrooms in small cabins on Fulcios agritourismo farm. Each morning we woke and gobbled up breakfasts of local bread, drank coffee steeped so slowly in small tin brewing contraptions, layered on thick portions of Gnutella, and generally loaded up on as many calories as possible, wise to the fact that each day’s route would be between 30 and 80 miles that felt more like 90 to 240 miles because of the intensity of the mountains that hosted us.

We would ride all day long, and somtimes into the early evening. We rode up 10, 20, and 30% gradients. At one point we even rode DOWN a 40% paved road, which was a lifetime event for me.

At night we gathered again for dinner at that same long table that I had sat at a year before, dreaming of inviting people back, exactly as was now happening. Riders from Italy, USA, Sweden, France, and Japan joined. English was the most spoken language this year, but cycling and time spent pedaling together slowly eroded our shyness. I deeply enjoyed the off the bike time as much or more than our on the bike time together. I find the simple act of sharing a bit of life with each other to be the most inspiring way to pass hours, or days, or a week.

Rodeo Summer Camp was an absolute roller coaster for me. I experienced the highs of new friends and of views so intense and beautiful that my brain gave up trying to process and absorb any of it. I also expereinced the stress of the effort, the fear of the weather, the disappointment of logistics gone sour (such as Greg’s broken hand, people getting sick, or Cory’s bike that never showed up), and the strain of always wondering of people’s individual hopes and expectations for the week were being met or not. Had our efforts met the challenge? Had the experience matched the trust that people put in us when they booked plane tickets and forked over their camp registrations? Even at this moment, flying back home on Delta 0239, from Venice to JFK, I’m not 100% sure of the answers to that question.

My feelings are mixed: Exhaustion, joy, contentment, inspiration, grattitude to Ugo and staff, Fulcio, our guides Christian and Albi, grattitude to our attendees. I feel the fear that if people didn’t enjoy it all as much as I did they will grumble, or hold a grudge, or regret that they attended this crazy week at all.

But, in the end I feel good. Rodeo is back to inviting people to ride bikes together again in a big way. We are learning as we go what it means to put out the invite, and what it means to make good on the invite. We’re learning about how complicated events are. We’re getting better at it, I think. We’re resolved to create more experiences like these, here and there, as we are able.

If we continue to sell bikes, Rodeo will continue to be a bike company. If we continue to ride bikes together, Rodeo will continue to be Rodeo Adventure Labs.

I hope to see you at the next one!

-Stephen