I left Sydney looking for a reset. I found it climbing mud-covered gravel trails in Queensland's Sunshine Coast hinterland, somewhere between Cooroy and Pomona.
When it comes to "get-aways", the to-do list can't follow you on the trails. It gets buried beneath loose shale, lodged in thick mud, and drowned by creek crossings. There’s no space for distraction when the gradients demands more from tired legs and arms than most road rides. Here, as the terrain keeps shifting and the surface refuses to settle, your focus narrows to one thing—negotiating your adventure.
I had travelled north to meet up with my sister Cath—always willing to say yes to an adventure, but not always one to arrive overprepared. Between us, we had enough experience to read the terrain and a route, and just enough mental looseness to let things unfold.
Day One: Short on Distance, Long on Effort
She picked me up in a renovated postie van—part transport, part living space, and entirely practical. You could stand up in it, sleep in it, and fit multiple bikes inside without the usual ritual of strapping everything down. It’s how she tends to travel, often with her dog, moving from one ride to the next without much fuss.
A postie Van made the best vehicle to travel the roads to Cooroy with bikes
We made a quick stop at Coffee Anthology—a worthwhile pause for good coffee and bakery that lives up to its reputation—before heading north, watching the city give way to open roads, then soften into the green of the hinterland.
Cath, as expected, had forgotten a few things. A pump. A tube. In fact, any form of saddle bag or tools. It didn’t seem to concern her. It would become a theme of hilarity.
By the time we arrived at our base - Cooroy Luxury Motel - the shift was already underway. While the postie van offered simple things in life, a warm welcome and clean, considered space at the motel was a brilliant alternative. We had just enough time to drop our bags before turning our attention to the ride.
The interior of Cooroy Luxury Motel was a pleasant surprise, spacious and accomodating for the dirtiest gravel rider
A Region You Don’t Just Ride—You Explore
The Noosa Trail Network isn’t a single route you follow. It’s a network that invites you to piece things together.
We rolled out that afternoon. While this wasn't a long ride on paper, (31.2 kilometres with 726 metres of elevation), numbers rarely tell a full story. Routes offer a direction, but not the detail: they don’t account for the thickness of the mud, the fallen logs that force a stop, or shale that demands slower, considered lines.
What started as a rolling open road, quickly turned to gravel thrills and spills, and then the black of night.
We experienced a bit of everything that included hardpack country roads stretching into long, rolling kilometres. Then, without warning, sections of heavy mud appeared. Water sits low across the hinterland, and even on drier ground you’ll find pockets of it. Recent rain had left the trails alive and constantly changing.
The higher points of the ride allow you to ride a ridge like no other. Fast and flowing after a very challenging climb.
The thought of gravel can evoke images of country lands and farm roads. But mud can bring different realities. Proper equipment, like SPD MTB Cleats (Single release) is recommended.
Gravel has a way of stripping things back. You adapt, you adjust, and occasionally you laugh when the situation gets a little out of hand.
Progress was slower than expected—not just because of the terrain, but also because of setup. Cath had arrived in road cleats, which didn’t take long to fill with mud—making clipping in unpredictable. It became another part of the day, approached with the same willingness she brings to everything—just get on with it and keep moving. When we reached a road, we'd dismount and tap the shoes aggressively.
From the road, my 3T Racemax Italia drew its usual attention—a vibrant green that seems to invite comment before conversation. This time it came from a boy no older than eight, standing on the main corner of Pomona, wearing a hubcap as a hat.
“Nice bike!”
He caught our attention just after we’d dragged ourselves—more hiking than riding—through a thick, clingy mud incline of 35 percent.
No angle will accurately depict the degree of the hill nor the degree of the effort it took to climb. The mud was also uncompromising!
By late afternoon, we found ourselves riding the ridgeline. Softened light crossed the hinterland—wide views opening up in long stretches of quiet. It was the kind of moment you want to hold onto, but the clock was working against us.
The light dropped faster than expected.
Cath, unsurprisingly, had left her lights behind. Between us, we had enough to get back, but it meant cutting a section of trail short—one I’ll come back for.
Sometimes the better decision is to turn back.
We rolled instead into the Pomona Hotel, mud-covered and drawing a few curious looks as we stepped into the outdoor area for a beer. Whether it was the kit or the layer of dirt, it was hard to tell.
Either way, that beer felt earned.
Reset, Rebuild, Go Again
After a day like that, the details matter.
Cooroy Luxury Motel delivered exactly what you need—space, cleanliness, a proper kitchen, a hot shower that does its job, and the ability to deal with whatever the trail left behind. Washing machines handled the mud, and strong WiFi meant we could sit down and map the next day properly.
With owners who are avid mountain bikers, the advice is as valuable as the accommodation—local knowledge that helps shape the ride before you’ve even clipped in.
That night was spent refining routes—pulling together lines from different platforms, checking when they were last ridden, trying to read what the terrain might offer in the morning. In regions like this, conditions change quickly. What looks straightforward on a map can feel very different under your tyres.
Day Two: Longer, Still Demanding
The variety of terrains across the network of the Noosa trails offers plenty of challenges to tyre choice, especially when wet. We'd choose no less than 40 and preferably a 50 mixed terrain (if your clearance allows).
Day Two stretched out to around 60 kilometres with roughly 750 metres of elevation, and while the numbers suggested something more conventional, the experience was anything but predictable. Never have a I been more glad for the extra gear capacity of the Classified Wheels, nor the allowance to change gears regardless how steep the hill. These wheels are forevefr my secret weapon in tough terrain.
The heavier mud from the day before gave way to open rocky trails along train tracks with avoidable, water-filled potholes. Black cockatoos screamed overhead as we travelled up patchy shale climbs, the kind that ask for steady effort rather than bursts of power. It’s this kind of terrain and wildlife that holds your attention, requiring just enough focus to keep your mind alert on the job at hand. Core muscles also help keep that front tyre planted while picking lines through the sketchiest shale.
That, perhaps, is the real appeal of riding here. You’re not escaping the effort, but through it, everything else falls away. With such quick shifting landscapes, your attention narrows to what matters in that moment alone.
While the mud provided its challenges, we were also met with plenty of picturesque moments
The creek crossings continued, some leaving our socks soaked and our legs marked with mud—and the occasional but enormous families of midges, clinging on as unwilling passengers for the ride.
At times, it felt natural to stop, not from fatigue, but simply to take it in—and, where possible, brush the collective midges away. From above, the hinterland opens out into something expansive and quiet, a contrast to the focus it demands when you’re moving through it.
When riding on gravel, investing in appropriate shoes that you can ride as well as hike in will help. My Q36.5 Gravel shoes had seen better days after heavy peanut butter mud trawling.
Cath adapted as the ride unfolded, and while she was clearly feeling the effort, she finished the day having learnt more than expected and, perhaps more importantly, having enjoyed it more than she thought she would.
It’s that balance—between effort and reward, challenge and clarity—that draws you back.
Despite the isolation at times, it never felt unsafe. As someone who often rides solo, that’s something I’m conscious of. Even without seeing many other riders, the network regularly reconnects with quiet back roads, offering simple exit points if needed. On one particularly boggy section, we chose to climb back onto the road rather than push through—an easy decision that made the ride more enjoyable without compromising the experience.
And it’s worth noting—this region isn’t defined by its hardest sections alone. Beyond the steeper, more technical terrain, there are plenty of routes that follow quieter back roads, opening into longer, more flowing rides that suit a gravel bike perfectly. It’s this range that makes the hinterland work—appealing to mountain bikers, gravel riders, and even road cyclists looking to step just slightly off the bitumen.
Beyond the Ride
What makes this region stand out isn’t just the riding—it’s how easily everything fits around it.
Cooroy carries a quiet depth. Its name comes from a local Indigenous word meaning “possum,” and there’s a creative thread running through town, anchored by the Butter Factory Arts Centre.
In Pomona, the pace slows further. The Pomona Distilling Co. offers a relaxed way to spend an afternoon off the bike, while the pub remains exactly what you want it to be after a long day on the trails.
There are campgrounds scattered throughout the region, and they suit the setting. But for me, immediate access to a hot shower, somewhere to cook, cold storage for a well-earned drink, and a reliable connection to plan the next ride makes all the difference.
Why You’d Come Back
It might seem like a long way to come—from Sydney to the Noosa Hinterland—for a weekend of riding.
But there’s enough here to justify the trip, and more. Enough variety to return and ride entirely different trails without repeating a single section. Enough challenge to keep it interesting. Enough ease around it to make it enjoyable.
This isn’t a place you tick off.
It’s one you come back to.
Final Thought
I have a tendency to start riding before I’ve done all the research.
This trip was a reminder that sometimes that’s exactly the point.
