Basia Unleashed

Pyroclastic flow. God there’s a phrase that gets me all hot. I’ve only been obsessed with volcanoes forever and vast mountain ranges since I attempted to do some Six Million Dollar man stylee running some two thousand metres up in the Andes. Well, when I say run, I mean, move a bit faster than I normally do in wedge heel sandals. Don’t even ask how I got up there in wedge heel sandals. Just believe it. Aconcagua (two days walk to base camp said our guide - a hella lot longer in your footwear lady - and there was me thinking it was just a short stroll across that meadow yonder) to the best of my knowledge is not a volcano, but it gave me a lifelong fascination for mountains that were made to be worshipped. Like Mount Taranaki.

The first time I saw a photograph of Taranaki it was true love. The first time I saw Taranaki from the car window, it was pure unadulterated passion, even more than the passion I felt for the very lovely Maori bartender with the improbable name of Patrique that I was to meet the same night (they build everything big in Taranaki it seems) but that could have been the gin.

It may sound silly to some but this volcano has been calling to me for a long time. It took me a long time to answer the call and even longer to get to see it, rising majestically above a swathe of cloud, dominant, breathtaking, commanding. Our first meeting was brief and in passing, but it was worth every penny and every mile it took to get here.

I will go to the volcano again and we will be face to face. And this time in more suitable footwear…