The clue is in the name. Peak District. The road is either up or down, rarely flat. Hard up, terrifying down. Short yet sharp climbs to test the legs followed by twisting, snaking descents to test your grip on the brake levers.
Yet the ever changing landscape is magnificent, one minute rolling moorland, the next craggy cliff faces, a twist and turn here, there, a glorious ravine, a wooded valley, a bustling twee village blurring on by.
Green pastures dotted with sheep, rolling hills wrapped in mist, the odd castle ruins here and there, jagged rock and a soul-searching isolation. This is cycling in Wales. Around every corner is a hill, the incline rarely gentle, the view usually breathtaking, assuming of course, the climb left you with breath from which to take.
Leave the big ring at home and pack your EPO spare legs. Oh, and bring your walking shoes too, just in case. Cycling in the Lake District will leave you breathless, be it the view or the steep hills you climb to reach such dizzying heights. Wainwright and Wordsworth were fans of the scenery although they might have changed their tune had they cycled.