Canigou is the mountain the Catalans call their own, and it stands so far out ahead of the rest of the Pyrenees that from the plain it looks like it was set down on purpose. In early May it was still carrying snow on its upper slopes while the coast below was in shirtsleeves.
I liked it best from here, across the flat market gardens of the Roussillon, the low glasshouses and cloches running out toward it. The everyday farmland in front makes the mountain do more work, not less.
One frame, base ISO, a long way back. Some things you do not need to get close to.