Derby, Tasmania, is well-known among the mountain biking community as a mecca of trails. But one doesn’t need to be a lycra-clad pro to enjoy the peace this hidden gem delivers, Sarah Pollok writes.
It’s only once we lean our mountain bikes against a muddy boulder and gingerly step over a flat rock to gaze at the waterfall that I notice the most beautiful thing: I’ve been riding Derby’s mountain trails for just 30 minutes and my mind has been quiet the entire time.
There are emails to read, car WOFs to renew, nagging anxieties to process, yet my stubbornly overactive brain had been soothed and silenced by a task demanding every fragment of my attention. My total absorption didn’t surprise my riding buddy Tara Howell, who founded Blue Derby Pods Ride with her husband in 2015. In fact, in 2023, researchers at the University of Tasmania found the all-inclusive luxury mountain bike company regularly enabled guests to experience “flow state”.
“One of the things that is just so special about Derby is that it’s for mountain bikers, which is so wild,” Tara says earlier that morning as we stroll Derby’s single main street. Case in point, I count two cafes, two restaurants, four bike hire and repair shops and little else. Most have done little to change the single-storey mining houses they occupy, a relic from the 1900s, when tin mining birthed the town. Back then it supplied 10% of the world’s tin until 1929 when a freak flood thundered through the area, killing workers and eventually, the town. It wouldn’t recover until 2015, when A$3 million ($3.66m) of government funding and 30km of trail building created Blue Derby Mountain Bike Trails Network.
The impact on the 200-person town has been, in Howell’s words, “phenomenal”. Today, upwards of 80,000 visitors roll through each year and more than 125km of trails are maintained by six fulltime staff.
Blue Derby guests start their two- to four-day adventures in the morning with bikes ready, but since it’s just me today, we head to Evolution Biking. At 9am, the sleepy town is warm and hazy, a light mist diffusing the morning sun and it feels like stepping on to an old Western film set, if it weren’t for the two dozen people clustered outside cafes and around bike racks in the unofficial uniform of three-quarter-length quick-dry pants, black ankle-length socks and sports shirts. It’s the most unusual sight, a proper mecca for mountain bikers. Yet Tara tells me it’s quiet compared to the height of the summer season.
While head mechanic Jason sets my seat height, a Tasmanian police officer nursing a flat white ambles by. “What are ya riding today?” he says to a Canadian woman as she clips up her helmet, and the pair start chatting about the best trails to hit. It’s a perfect snapshot of Derby: a place where friendly folk unite over their love of the sport.
After a quick reminder on how to brake, use the lever-adjusted seat post (a game changer) and switch gears, we hit an easy green trail around Lake Derby. Within minutes, it’s postcard-pretty with dense layers of wattles, tea tree and eucalypts surrounding the glassy water. Bodies warm, we peel off a layer and head into the mountains, zig-zagging through the cool, damp air, up and over rocks and tree roots, ducking under lush fern glades. Every time my legs begin to protest, a blissful downhill or traverse arrives right on cue. “The trail builders knew what they were doing,” Tara calls back.
Hugging the edge of a terrace, I steal a glance over the blanket of trees and mountain below – astonished that within 10 minutes of riding, we’ve reached what feels like the middle of nowhere. No power poles, no cars, not a shred of evidence that just 500m away there is a town. Tara gestures to the dense canopy and says that among the trees is their luxury off-grid accommodation and lodge.
Back at the carpark, there’s an option to shuttle up and cruise down. “Or, we could cycle up …” Tara says, dangling the challenge. A sucker for punishment, I give an overly enthusiastic “yes” and we begin the climb. It’s certainly not easy; at points I miss a corner and walk the bike up but I’m trying and feel surprisingly proud when we reach the top, heart thudding in my ears, rivulets of sweat sneaking down my back.
That nudging of a boundary, and the resulting confidence, is one of the tour’s most rewarding elements, Tara says. With this being a male-dominated sport, women often arrive with their husbands and significant hesitation about their ability. “The person who is not experienced, they end up by the end of the time being able to ride like their partner, and it’s really powerful,” she explains. As a result, tours are often split evenly between men and women, most aged 45-70, with options to opt for an e-bike or simply walk the trails and soak up the surrounding nature.
After the mahi, the treats: a sweet downhill along Hazy Days and Flickety Sticks. I ease my fingers off the brakes as we tumble and turn down smooth berms and rocky steeps, the bike rocking side to side beneath me until I feel weightless, my cheeks aching in a huge grin.
Two hours, and it’s just a taste of day one of the full tour. At this point, Tara tells me, guests head back into the forest for an outdoor picnic lunch, before a little more riding, ending up at the pods.
Instead, I return my bike and roll straight into The Hub, the best pizza spot in town. Much like the rest of Derby, the restaurant looks like it’s been plucked from a cowboy movie, with seating for about 50 people. Inside, a huge tiled pizza oven steals the show, and I watch the chef toss floured dough with ease before topping it with one of the menu’s 15 topping combinations.
It’s quiet for lunch, most bikers still deep in the mountain at midday, but it’s not hard to picture the place packed in the evenings or over a weekend. I’m impressed when my chicken olive pizza arrives in five minutes flat. Even more so when I see it has a proper artisanal base: thin, slightly charred in spots, with minimal but tasteful toppings.
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Refuelled, I enjoy a slow post-meal stroll back to our first trail around Lake Derby, for a well-earned pampering at the hottest spot in town (literally).
Perched over the water, Floating Saunas Derby is a simple set-up consisting of two A-frames on a pontoon: one with two change cubicles and the black wooden one holding the sauna.
An introvert, I’m momentarily disappointed to realise the one-hour session is done in groups of six. Yet, as we quietly sit in the wood-fired sauna and someone pours a wooden ladle of water over the rocks, the most beautiful thing happens: we all begin to chat.
The Queensland couple kick things off, joking that the 70-degree air was almost as warm as back home, while a young couple from Brisbane are visibly sweating. Their next stop is the airport after a romantic long weekend, while the Queenslanders have caravanned around Tasmania for two months. “We wish we’d taken three months, then we wouldn’t have been so rushed,” they say, with absolute sincerity.
Like new friends, we all take a dunk in the lake at the same time, the 16-degree water is the perfect level of cold. The two staff also assure us it’s regularly tested for purity and free from creepy creatures.
Paddling around, the sauna and lake feel like the trails, and Derby itself: vast yet private, close yet remote, seemingly designed to quieten life’s demands and help you find your flow.
Checklist
TASMANIA, AUSTRALIA
GETTING THERE
Fly from Auckland to Hobart direct with Air New Zealand.
DETAILS
Blue Derby Pods Ride | bluederbypodsride.com.au
Discover Tasmania | discovertasmania.com.au
New Zealand Herald Travel visited courtesy of Discover Tasmania.