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The last ride #1

Imagine for a moment that there was only one more.

The last ride #1

A single day, a final chapter, a last ride. Of all the miles covered and all the roads ridden, which would draw you back to experience them one more time?

The last ride #1

THE LOST RIVER BARN IN WEST VIRGINIA

Pro Bike Rider // Nice Resident // @JOEDOMBRO

A friend of mine, Jay Moglia, splits his time between the city life of being a bike messenger in Washington D.C. and running the barn out at Lost River. I’ve been going to the barn for years. It sits on top of Branch Mountain with the only approach being either side of the thirty minute climb up the serpentine bends of Howards Lick road. The barn was once just that, a barn, but now it serves as a mountain retreat frequented by cyclists in the mid-Atlantic area. I have a lot of fond memories from the barn.

I don’t spend so much time back home anymore, but every off-season Jay hosts a group of the local pros, and a tight crew and we do a weekend riding mountain bikes, drinking beer, building fires, and shooting guns. It’s always a good time and it brings you back to the fun side of riding bikes. Why you started in the first place.

My last ride would be an epic. All day. A plan of sorts, but explorative in nature. Our local crew, with all my buddies from back home I ride with would come. We would do it on ‘cross bikes. Lost River has loads of dirt roads deep into the hollows, that give you the best flavor of the West Virginia mountains. We’d finish with the slog up to the barn, and like always have something killer in the kitchen waiting for us prepared by Jay’s wife Audrey. The post-ride is important too. It might be what puts the barn over the top for me. As usual, we’d finish the day off sitting around a fire, sipping local moonshine, playing music, and talking about the the adventure of the day.

The last ride #1

BACK TO WHERE IT ALL STARTED - COL DE LA BONETTE

Cycling Adventurer // London Commuter // @LASSTOPP

After knee surgery ended my fledgling running career, I bought an old steel bike and started commuting around London. A few months later a friend told me about the Fireflies Tour, a ride from Geneva to Cannes, across the Alps, to raise money for a leukaemia charity.

I had no idea if my knee was going to cope under the strain, but I knew I had to do it, so after a few months of training I headed out, nervously, to the mountains. I’d never been to the Alps before, it was a totally new experience, but as soon as I climbed my first mountain, I was smitten and the further south we travelled, the more I fell in love.

The warmth of the sun melting the snow, the cool air of the icy waterfalls at the side of the road, the scent of wild flowers and pine trees lapping up the sunshine and the sense of peace and quiet captured my imagination, this was a million miles away from bone tumours and London life.


We ascended 80,000ft in 8 days, I felt exhausted, my legs and shoulders were in pain, I got angry and sometimes I got sad, questioning my ability as I made my way, each day, further south in search of crisp rosé and summer in Cannes! And finally our last big day of climbing stood before us and we cycled up and down both sides of Bonette, but I didn‘t think about my achy legs, I just marvelled at this beautiful mountain.

It’s a special place and one that will stay with me. I loved it for it’s remote beauty, for the new friends I‘d made, for the stories and experiences we shared and for the view at 2,800m.
Looking down in the direction of Cannes, knowing that the end was in sight, that I’d completed this huge challenge having only recently started cycling. My mind and body had made it. I won’t ever forget that feeling of exhilaration, feeling alive, feeling grateful that I was physically able to complete the ride and looking out towards the finish line on the horizon, smiling at the sign pointing in the direction of Nice, but not wanting to leave.

So for all the memories and emotions attached to that ride, I’d have to go back to Bonette, to remember old times, old friends and to stand at the top, looking out with a bottle of wine in one of the most beautiful places in the world, probably contemplating what’s next…!

The last ride #1

HOME TURF - L’ARRIÈRE PAYS NIÇOISE

Strava KOM Hunter // Mountain Goat // @KONGGFUFU

There are so many possibilities but it would have to be the back country of Nice, where I live; Col de Turini and Boucle de l’Authion. Many riders don’t tackle the mountain roads during the winter because of the black ice and freezing air but I love climbing this route whatever the weather. I’d take the long approach. Passing by Col de la Cabanette and the edge of Peira Cava there are twenty one hairpins in less than five kilometres, it feels like riding in the sky as you approach Col de Turini.

Here there is always something special to see. It’s famous for motorsport too and in warmer weather it can be a little Nurburgring. Once I saw Walter Rohl in a Porsche yellowbird.
The culmination of the ride begins with boucle de l’Authion, there’s a ten kilometre loop and two kilometre climb to reach the Alpine pasture above. The gradient hits fifteen percent and the tarmac is old and worn out in places, I’ve certainly helped with that process. The very final section has to be done on foot, it’s only fifty metres and essential to claim the reward of a stunning panorama. A three hundred and sixty degree view, with the first summits of the Mercantour National park on one side and the deep blue sea on the other.

It’s an unforgettable climb, a real adventure because of the wild and winding roads and there’s technical difficulty as well. It‘s always a privilege to ride such beautiful roads and for me there’s no need to travel the world to find the perfect place.


In the winter I like to stop to eat a panbagna or a famous blueberry pie at Camp d‘Argent ski station. For my last ride though I’d ride it in the summer and plan to reach the top in the early evening, just in time to catch the last sunshine of the day.