It’s the state Australia forgot: a small island sitting far off the southernmost point of the mainland, exposed and truly wild. It’s a land of immense wilderness, rugged landscapes, and pristine coastlines—a place where trees grow to 100 meters tall and a home to many indigenous plants and animals that don’t exist anywhere else in the world.

Once part of the supercontinent Gondwana, Tasmania is a time capsule of a prehistoric wonderland. The southern hemisphere’s last temperate rainforest exists here, serving as a reminder of the dense growth that once covered lands in this far-flung part of the globe. Although she’s often the blip left off of maps, this space has allowed Tasmania to—culturally and environmentally— evolve without much interference.

Take a step away from the glare of the golden sands, look beneath the towering trees, and you’ll find undisturbed forest floors crawling with wildlife and now, an increasing number of mountain bikers. For observers of mountain bike culture, it would be easy to sit back and assume that Tasmania’s singletrack renown is a by-product of publicity gained from hosting events such as the Enduro World Series. In reality, this island state of Australia has been building its scene for decades through a mix of meticulous planning, tireless work by key community members, and advice from a few trusted consultants with a gift for convincing government officials to take a chance.

Many riders are first introduced to modern Tassie mountain biking by way of Derby, a small, once-forgotten mining town tucked far up in the northeastern reaches of the island. However, core, local trailbuilders were working to convince councils and state government to invest in proper infrastructure a few of decades before Derby stepped into the international spotlight.