I’ve ridden in Molini twice before and loved every second of it, so when the chance arose for a third visit, I couldn't say no.
The village is beautiful, as is the river that weaves its way down through the valley. It’s an old village steeped in history, and that’s partly what brought me there for the first time, nearly 10 years ago.
Molini di Triora lies just inside Italy, near the border with France.
In 2017, Santa Cruz was launching its fourth-generation Nomad, alongside the Juliana Strega.
For those who don’t know Italian, strega translates to ‘witch’ and Molini, often referred to as the ‘village of witches’, got this reputation from the infamous 16th-century witch trials, which saw many women from the area falsely accused, tortured into confessing and then imprisoned.
While the Juliana’s model name and the witch connection to the village provided a great narrative, it was the incredible trail network in the surrounding mountains that was the real draw. It was that trip that sparked my interest in the area.
Even back then, Molini had started to garner a reputation. Ask any die-hard MTB tourist about riding in nearby Finale Ligure, and they’d reply with, “Yeah, but have you been to Molini?”.
I was intrigued. When the Nomad launch popped up, I raised my hand, flew out and fell in love with the place as soon as I’d ridden the very first trail. That’s why I was desperate to return.
When Phil from Santa Cruz called to let me know the seventh-generation Nomad was coming out, we hatched a plan. With only three days to spare, and in need of some better weather to ride and shoot the bike, we’d make a long-awaited return to Molini.
There, we’d meet up with my old mate Sven Martin, World Cup photographer and local resident, along with Alberto (or Albi for short), our guide for the trip and the owner of Molini MTB.
We’d cram as many runs as possible into what equated to about two days of riding, sample the local food and hospitality, and make a video.
Warmest welcome
As soon as we get to the Molini MTB workshop, we begin frantically building our bikes, eager to get into the hills and onto the (dry) trails. We’ve already sampled some amazing local cuisine, so are fuelled up and excited.
Albi opens his workshop doors and welcomes us as if we’re lifelong friends who haven’t seen one another for a while. The place is buzzing, with the trail-building team and other locals milling about. We quickly throw wheels in, tighten bolts and get kitted up as our uplift vehicle pulls in.
Sven, who now spends the bulk of his summer in Molini, between shooting World Cup races, gives me the lowdown as we start to load the bikes onto the trailer.
“When we have trail-building days, you get the servers in the bar [joining in], who’ve never even ridden a [mountain] bike, people from town, whether that’s stonemasons, electricians or plumbers,” he explains. “They all get stuck in, because they know that mountain bike tourism is keeping the villages and towns alive.”
Before Molini became known as a mountain bike destination, many of the village’s young people were leaving, heading to bigger towns for work. The locals realised they needed to do something to keep money coming in and offer more prospects for those keen on sticking around.
Mountain biking has helped boost tourism and injected more money into the local economy, so much so that it feels as if every person here is invested, even if they don’t ride. Once a year, Albi helps to organise a trail-digging week when anyone can turn up, and help maintain and dig trails for five days, before getting two free uplift days.
What I particularly admire is the local hotels and restaurants help accommodate and feed any volunteers who travel to Molini for these days, for free.
“The villages are growing again with a younger demographic,” Sven tells me. With bikes loaded, we begin our journey upwards to our first trail.
Dropping in
Sven drops in behind Albi and I quickly follow, with Max and Phil close to my back wheel. After only a few turns, I’m grinning from ear to ear. This is even better than I remember. It’s early spring and still chilly, but the dirt is perfect.
As Sven puts it: “The trails are natural, but an enhanced natural” – and that’s what makes the riding here so special. I think these trails are the best in the world.
The flow and speed of this first track is incredible, but it still requires full concentration. As I skip over a section of roots before a tight right turn, I know exactly when Max arrives at this section thanks to the high-pitched scream he emits, followed by howling laughter.
High-speed, bench-cut sections spit you out into steeper, rocky outcrops that require you to thread your tyres accurately between boulders while you hold on for dear life. It’s tricky but it never feels dangerous, which only adds to the fun. We meet at a junction, low down on the hillside, with the most ridiculous smiles pasted across our faces.
Even though it’s late afternoon, Max and I are keen to go again. We head back up the hill for another taste of Molini’s finest, remembering to turn our action cameras on this time.
Sven’s promise
We only have one full day, and Max and I are eager to get moving and up the hill, with our Italian hosts keen to oblige. We want to get more of a flavour of the variety this valley has to offer, and with Sven and Albi in charge, we’re in good hands.
Our first trail threads its way through a crumbling building. We then dive into a narrow gully, where the singletrack weaves up and down the banks, perfectly matching the contours of the hill, enabling us to bank the bikes right over in the apex of each turn before slingshotting back down and into the channel.
The next run gets a little rougher in spots, and as I slide around a tight right-hander and roll into a stepped rocky drop-in, I realise I’ve ridden this trail before. Sven shouts to me to point this out, and says he wants to recreate a shot we did here back in 2017. With another photo taken, we keep on riding.
Sven, a former World Cup racer, isn’t exactly going slowly. I try to stay tight on his wheel as he screams out trail info before heavy bouts of laughter. We’re really in a rhythm now, skipping across the trail and doubling from lump to bump.
Finally, we roll out into the open and pull to a stop.
In the afternoon, we head up onto a different hillside. Sven has promised me the most iconic end to a trail ever. It’s already been an amazing morning so these feel like big words to be chucking around. Can it really be that good?
To highlight the variation on offer, the trail starts in the open, with softer, lighter dirt and turns carved neatly into the hillside. There’s flow and speed, making for another great start. Each of the many tracks we’ve ticked off has been a little different, but all have been world-class.
As we enter the woods, the terrain beneath our tyres changes. I’m now pinging over embedded stone and blasting down what I can only assume was an old walking path that the trail crew have resurrected.
That means we come screaming into the tightest of hairpins every so often, which require precise front-brake control to endo the bike, pivoting it around the front wheel, to make it through. Or you can hang a leg out and ‘tripod’ your way around, which feels a little less graceful. I capture one of Sven’s neatest manoeuvres on camera and he’s stoked.
We continue ripping along this old path, chopping and changing between lines across cobbles that have been well-worn since they were laid hundreds of years ago, onto smooth dirt that’s only recently been shaped. As I chase Sven down, I see him pulling to a stop. I can already hear the waterfall.
We’re in a densely wooded area and right in front of me stands the most beautiful arched bridge, spanning a shallow canyon, beneath which crystal-clear water flows through smooth rock pools, formed over hundreds of thousands of years.
The bridge is narrow and has awkwardly spaced steps, so riding it – especially if you’re fearful of heights – is nerve-wracking.
We spend some time here, soaking in the surroundings, getting more shots and talking about the trails. Sven wasn’t wrong – this really is the most amazing end to a trail I’ve ever seen. If I thought of Molini fondly before, I can now unequivocally say I’m in love with the place.
