Not where I am. And vive le difference. Mountains may be mountains, but the ochre, sandy, heat-baked ones that I’m looking at – majestic and dramatic though they are – are a far cry from these ones at the top end of the world.
They are, I’m reliably informed, Mount Olstind in Norway and the Vestrahorn in Iceland respectively.
Both are places I desperately now want to go, and both are literally half a world from where I am now.