A Lovely way to discover Nava

After a quick coffee with the crew and a better parking job, we kicked off our first leg: Montariolo.

Riding uphill, I noticed the forest lining the dirt road was bursting with mushrooms of every kind. There were so many, so colorful and beautiful, that at one point, I couldn’t resist sliding down the bank for a closer look. I even convinced myself I’d found two porcini mushrooms. Spoiler: they weren’t.

Pippo and a passing forager patiently explained how to tell edible mushrooms apart from poisonous ones, but if you’re ever craving risotto, I’m definitely not the person you should trust for sourcing fungi.

Back on the pedals, we reached the entrance to the first trail: Fattoria. Beautiful. The trail was immaculately maintained—special thanks to the Nava crew: Mirco (yes, with the broken nose), Loris, Samir, Davide, and others who really put in the work.

Fattoria is perfect for warming up and regaining confidence if, like me, you need a little time to hit your stride before diving headfirst into adventure.

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After finishing the trail, we descended to Ponte di Nava for a quick pit stop: a sandwich and a sip from a charming little fountain.

The climb began on asphalt, winding through quaint little houses, with occasional breathtaking views of the valley dominated by towering rocks.

Eventually, the asphalt gave way to rougher dirt roads, leading to a playful, straightforward trail with gentle ups and downs—a beginner-friendly ride where you can coast along with ease.

Everything was smooth sailing until we hit an unexpected obstacle: a river cutting through the trail. A small bridge had likely been swept away by heavy rains.

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So, we found ourselves crossing the riverbed, which was unrideable due to large stones.

With some hopping, balancing, and a bit of creativity, we made it across—bikes in hand, of course. Naturally, Pippo emerged perfectly dry, while I ended up with both feet submerged, wobbling among the rocks. A steep, log-formed staircase on the other side brought us, with some effort, back onto the trail.

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The last stretch led us to a small hamlet, where a bar caught our attention. We decided to stop for coffee but instead opted for a special drink: Spuma Bionda.

For the curious (as I was), Spuma Bionda is a vintage soda born in the 1920s—a non-alcoholic fizzy drink made of water, sugar, and various flavors like orange peel, rhubarb, and vanilla. A true retro gem.

Refreshed by the Spuma Bionda, despite my soggy feet, we hopped back on our bikes and headed up the dirt road to the mountain lodge. But, of course, after a short stretch of asphalt, as I was distractedly chatting about who-knows-what, I heard Pippo’s alarmed voice ordering me to turn around. I barely managed to glance back in time to see two enormous, furious Maremmani sheepdogs charging at us, barking ferociously.

If it weren’t for Pippo, I would’ve probably kept pedaling cluelessly, but he—having a well-documented lack of fondness for sheepdogs—immediately called for a strategic retreat.

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We paused, took a deep breath, and decided to try again, this time on foot. The dogs followed, barking for a bit but eventually seemed to let us go. We started riding again, but not long after, just around a bend, there they were—this time giving proper chase.

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Pippo, now in full alert mode, heard them before I did. As soon as one of the dogs appeared behind us, he let out a menacing roar that finally made it back off.

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I swear, I didn’t know Pippo had that voice in him!

After our close encounter with the dogs, we soon reached the Mongioie lodge. But our plan wasn’t to sleep inside the lodge; we had booked a Stars Box instead. If the name gives you a hint, let me explain: the Stars Box is a cross between a tent and a cabin, with a roof that opens up so you can stargaze. Inside, it’s just a bed. Stunning.

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Too bad it wasn’t the ideal season for a “night under the stars.” We spent plenty of time in the box but saw little of the stars. Still, it’s a lovely alternative to the lodge rooms—more private and peaceful.

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After a nap in our “room,” we joined the others for aperitifs, where Pippo decided to channel his inner alpha male. The lodge keeper claimed the light drizzle would prevent the fire from lighting. Spoiler: Pippo got it going, and after a couple of glasses of prosecco, he made it his mission to keep it alive. Even during dinner (indoors), he kept checking to ensure the fire (outdoors) was still burning.

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The next morning greeted us with a spectacular view: opening the front doors of the Stars Box revealed a breathtaking sea of clouds below. One of those panoramas that makes you feel like the day couldn’t possibly go wrong. After a hearty breakfast at the lodge, we were back in the saddle.

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At the start of our descent, we were a bit apprehensive about re-encountering the infamous dogs from the day before. Thankfully, the trail was clear, and it was an absolute joy to ride. There’s something magical about the mountains in the early morning—the sense of the world waking up, the fresh, light air on your face, and the first rays of sunshine selectively kissing parts of the valley.

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But, of course, there’s always a “but.” At one point, the trail was interrupted: the bridge we needed to cross was gone. So, we took the only available route—a steep, stepped shortcut that was impossible to ride. We pushed our bikes up until we reached a rocky section where water was cascading down.

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Crossing on foot was just a matter of climbing a few rocks and descending on the other side, but carrying the bikes made it a bit more challenging—not impossible, though.

Once past that section, the descent resumed on a perfect trail: a playful, rolling path with plenty of variety, leading us to Carnino Inferiore, a quaint mountain village nestled in a lush green basin. There, we found a warm welcome at the Foresteria di Carnino, where we stopped for a quick coffee before heading towards Upega.

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After a few kilometers on asphalt, we arrived in Upega, where a group of Alpini veterans was holding a gathering to honor the partisans (incidentally, they were heading to the Mongioie lodge, where we’d slept the night before!). We made a quick stop at Locanda d’Upega to grab some sandwiches, not knowing where we’d be by lunchtime. While waiting for the sandwiches, we chatted with a kind local woman who gave us some tips about the route ahead.

With sandwiches safely stashed in our backpacks, we began the climb towards the entrance of the Via del Sale. The initial stretch was asphalt, giving way to dirt roads as we climbed higher. The Via del Sale isn’t just any mountain road—it’s regulated, with periods when it’s closed to traffic or restricted to certain vehicles. That’s where we met Dino, the road’s caretaker.

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We stopped to chat with Dino, who turned out to be friendly and full of stories about his job and the peculiar (sometimes rude) characters he encounters. He even offered us coffee before we continued on our way.

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Initially, our plan was to climb further along the Via del Sale, reach Rifugio La Terza, and descend via a ridge trail called “I Ciechi”. However, that would have made for a much longer day, so we decided to take a more relaxed approach and head down towards Monesi instead.

The new route took us through a sea of grazing cows, dodging their droppings while Pippo prayed we wouldn’t run into any more dogs. From Monesi, we carried on to Colle San Bernardo di Mendatica, where, despite the sandwiches in our backpacks, we couldn’t resist stopping at Mauro’s Taverna.

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Mauro is a man who left his family business to move here, opening a small restaurant catering to travelers who love nature and tranquility. He seated us on a terrace with a stunning view of the valley. The only other guests, a group of elderly gentlemen, wasted no time recommending what we should eat. Mauro served us fresh tagliatelle with wild mushrooms, which were simply divine.

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After a slice of homemade pie and yet another coffee, we set off for our final trail: Carabiniere. This fun, varied descent led us back towards Nava. The trail was so enjoyable that I wanted to ride it again as soon as we finished, but our bike batteries were running low, and we had an appointment to catch—a chestnut roast with Cami and Michi at Cami’s dad’s place in Ormea.

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So, after the trail, we retrieved the car and headed to Ormea, where we wrapped up our adventure with homemade roasted chestnuts and a jar of artisanal honey “borrowed” from Cami’s dad.

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