Trail Book ➤ Stories from Finale Ligure
Maybe Today. Maybe Another Time
Every tour starts almost the same way. I introduce myself, we check the bikes, make a few last adjustments and, before we’ve even started riding, someone smiles and says, “My friend told me I have to ride Rollercoaster.” Sometimes it’s Rollercoaster, sometimes Madonna della Guardia, sometimes DH Men.
Those trails deserve every bit of their reputation, and there is a reason why riders travel from every corner of the world to experience them. I usually smile and answer, “Maybe today. Maybe another time.
Not because they aren’t worth riding, but because they’re only one chapter of a much bigger story.
After years of guiding, I’ve realised that what people remember at the end of the day is rarely a single trail. They remember the smell of warm focaccia drifting out of a village bakery, the silence of an olive grove, the first glimpse of the Mediterranean through the trees, or the moment we arrive in Verezzi and everyone instinctively stops.
That’s usually when I tell them, “Take a breath.” We’re often so focused on reaching the next trail that we forget to look around. The view isn’t going anywhere.
We’re Simply Riding History
I fell in love with Finale on a trail called Ca’ del Vacché, above San Bernardino. Back then there were no single uplifts. If you wanted to discover the trails, you either booked a full-day shuttle or you pedalled. I chose to pedal. There was no Trailforks. No Komoot. No GPS telling you where to turn. Just curiosity.
Of course, I got lost. I still remember calling a friend and trying to explain where I was. He laughed and simply said, “Follow the white paint mark on the rock.” So I did. That little paint mark eventually led me home, but more importantly it led me to the kind of riding I still love today.
Natural limestone. Ancient stone. Technical lines that were never shaped by machines. In that moment I realised I wasn’t discovering mountain bike trails. I was simply the latest person travelling paths that had already existed for centuries.
To understand Finale, you have to look beneath your tyres. Millions of years ago this landscape was covered by a warm tropical sea. Corals, shells and marine life slowly became the limestone we now know as Pietra di Finale. As the sea retreated and the land slowly emerged, water patiently carved valleys, cliffs and ridges into the rock, creating the landscape that defines this corner of Liguria today.
Long before mountain bikes arrived, people had already learned to live here. They built villages wherever the mountain allowed them to, planted olive trees on narrow terraces and connected communities with ancient stone mule tracks. Centuries later we arrived with mountain bikes. Today we call them trails. But in reality, we’re simply riding history.
The Rides I Keep for Myself
When I’m not guiding, I rarely spend my days chasing the famous trails. I usually head towards what we casually call the lower trails. Especially in winter.
Winter is my favourite season in Finale.
The crowds disappear, the air becomes crystal clear and the colours become almost unreal. The deep blue of the Mediterranean, the bright green of the olive trees and the white limestone create a landscape that still surprises me every time I ride through it. Those are the rides I keep for myself. Not because they’re secret, but because they remind me why I choose to stay here.
Not by the Trail
One of my favourite memories happened in Verezzi. We had just reached the small church of San Martino before dropping into one of Finale’s best-known trails: X-Men.
I was guiding two riders from Utah. For many of us Europeans, Utah is the dream. Endless landscapes, red rock deserts and national parks that we’ve admired in photographs our whole lives. Yet there they were, standing silently with their heads tilted back, completely absorbed by a small stone church in a tiny Ligurian village.
Not by the trail. Not by their bikes. Just by the beauty of that simple place.
A few minutes later we dropped into X-Men, a trail named after American superheroes. I still smile when I think about it. Sometimes we travel across the world looking for something extraordinary, only to discover that the memories we carry home have nothing to do with what we expected.
Everything in Between.
Eventually the guiding day comes to an end. My guests leave with new trails on their GPS, a few photos and, hopefully, memories they’ll carry home. But for me, the desire to keep riding never really disappears.
There’s always another path to explore, another excuse to return to where it all began. Back to San Bernardino. Back to those ancient stone paths that have never been reshaped by machines or redesigned for bikes. After the rain, the moss paints the rocks in impossible shades of green and the limestone becomes slippery enough to remind you that nature still makes the rules. Sometimes the bike barely holds its line, and honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
People come to Finale looking for Rollercoaster.
I hope they ride it.
But I hope they leave remembering the smell of fresh bread, the silence of an olive grove, the kindness of a stranger in a small village, a little church overlooking the sea and the feeling of discovering a place that has been here for millions of years.
Because Finale has never been just about the trails.
The trails are simply the excuse.
The real journey is everything in between.
The trails are simply the excuse. The real journey is everything in between.
Continue the journey