Secrets of the Forgotten Tapu - Text - © Lloyd Godman

I first encountered Tinirau, (Blackhead) around 1966, as it is now and has always been - it was a place of power. The attraction then was the surf, large, clean, powerful waves that broke with a force beyond the other breaks we rode in the area.  Here the power was magnified, somehow the topography of the ocean floor amplified the swell, focused them into thick southern widow makers kissed with long manes of feathery white spray from the offshore wind that often blew down the valley. In fact it was the only break within 50miles where the easterly wind blew off shore. The immense bulk of the headland broke the wind and directed it funnel like down the valley to the in-coming swells in a manner that produced perfect waves.

But beyond the attraction of the surf, rising from the ocean waters was a huge omni-present silhouette - a dense black head-land of basalt that sat on the horizon further than everyone ventured to paddle. As one waited in the deep waters it was impossible not to be seduced by this magnificent force that lifted from the waters like a shrine. It had a presence that I could only imagine with an ancient civilization before the European rational that now dominated the land. Later in the 1980s I was to find - indeed I was right.

Where the ocean meets the black, basalt rocks of Blackhead a sublime threatening of natural violence dissuades most who venture around the shoreline. Waves most often pound high up the rock faces with a force that can also pull one back into the ocean. At certain points, vertical cliffs present a physical impasse to moral beings, higher up the cliffs lichen becomes a slippery a surface in damp conditions. So it is not surprising that when the land was surveyed the authorities believed no one could walk around the headland and consequently no Queens Chain was included on the official maps. This has meant there was no protection of the rock formation on the seaward edge of the headland. ( the Queens Chain is an area of lad above the high tide line that provides access to all citizens)

During the 19 century, pastoral farming cleared much of the native trees from the land on the north east side of the headland leading up to Tunnel Beach and St Clair, but the abruptness of many areas meant that areas of native vegetation survived, particularly in the harshest areas. However farming on these windswept south facing slopes was a marginal business and the dense black stone of the headland attracted other financial interests. From the 1940s a quarry was established on he site to mine the high quality basalt rock. These activities began in a modest way with small machinery and little visible effect on the profile of the headland.

Looking towards Blackhead from Tunnel Beach Cir. 1880s

As mentioned, I first became aware of Blackhead in the late 1960s. I had joined the surf life saving club at Brighton, and would often be driven down the long steep dirt road from St Clair that pointed like an infinite arrow directly at the sea, toward the ocean at Blackhead below before the road turned sharply to the right and off to Brighton.

As I moved from surf life saving to board riding, I became much more familiar with Blackhead. I continued to surf the area for many decades.

While the quarry was present at this point, and the rock crushing activity continued, there were three environmental issues that came to my attention at this time. Blackhead was used as a place to burn the insulation off copper wire. Large piles were often heaped up on the ocean side of the headland and burnt off sending black pillars of thick black smoke out to sea. To my disgust, this practice continued for many years and appeared to be sanctioned by the quarry owner of the time.

Lloyd Godman surfing Blackhead - Photograph Warren Hawk

During initial discussions John Fulton suggested the company owned all of Blackhead could do what it liked and had plans to mine the centre of the site 50m below sea level and then blast an opening into the ocean crating a safe boat harbour.

However Friends of Blackhead raised the issue of overburden and rocks falling into the ocean as an environmental legal problem that they could not solve. The uniqueness of the rock formations was raised, particularly the Roman Baths and the Dock. In a compromise it was proposed that these areas that should protected. Doc agreed to turn a blind eye to tons of material being dumped into the ocean in return for a covenant on a limited area of the head land and a draft document was drawn up.

After several discussions an expedition by rubber surf boat was organized to take representatives from the company out to the sensitive spectacular areas at the end of the point. From here a covenant was put in place in 1990, to protect unique rock formations at sea level. However the destruction of large areas of the headland continues creating a strange unfamiliar shape at the end of the point.

I view the quarry management as environmental vandals yet ironically the quarry was the winner of the 1995 Nissan Diesel Environmental Award.

Fulton Hogan manager John Fulton and Blackhead Quarry manager stand atop on a visit to the Roman Baths area of Blackhead with Friends of Blackhead below to discuss how the area can be saved. 1-2-88 - Photo Lloyd Godman