Daily Photo – Blackhead Beach

Looking up at those dark cliffs and their strange hexagonal pillars at Blackhead Beach, you get the feeling the earth here is older than time itself. And in a way, it is. The headland was born about ten million years ago, when the great Dunedin Volcano was still rumbling and lava was spilling into the sea. As it cooled, the molten rock cracked and shrank into perfect six-sided columns, nature’s own geometry lesson. The result is the striking formation known locally as the “Roman Baths,” a natural amphitheatre of basalt that looks as if it were carved by an ancient civilisation rather than made by chance.
Yet, long before geologists admired these pillars or quarry trucks began to rumble nearby, Māori knew this place by very different names Te Wai o Tinarau, “the waters of Tinarau,” and Makereatu, roughly translated as “to leave a seed.” The names alone hint at a deep connection with both sea and story. Tinarau/Tinirau, is a figure in Polynesian culture associated with the sea. To name this coastline after him suggests an understanding that went beyond simple geography, a recognition of the tides, the fish, and the life that springs from the sea.
Even the second name, Makereatu, has a poetry to it. A sense of something passed on, perhaps the way every wave that breaks here leaves behind a trace of the one before. It’s a reminder that places like Blackhead are layered not just in basalt, but in meaning. The rocks tell a tale written in lava; the names tell one spoken in generations. Both deserve to be read slowly.