The Sai Kung columns rise a hundred metres out of the South China Sea at the eastern edge of Hong Kong, and they are the wrong colour. Almost every famous colonnade in the world is dark basalt; these are pale rhyolite, full of silica. A supervolcano emptied itself here about 140 million years ago, and the ash that filled its caldera fused and cooled so evenly that it cracked into six-sided prisms. What makes these ones unusual is not the shape but the size. The slower a sheet of rock sheds its heat, the further apart the cracks travel, so width is a record of cooling. These average 1.2 metres across and the broadest reach three, which points to an ash sheet up to 400 metres thick that held its warmth a very long time.
The flat path along the East Dam is the only stretch you can reach without a boat. Up close the hexagon tops are packed together like paving, their edges rounded off by salt spray and rain. This is the one place you can put a hand on rock 140 million years old. A boardwalk drops from it to the mouth of a sea cave. At the waterline the columns step down like a staircase cut in a hurry, and every wave threads the gaps between them under you. Seven thousand interlocking concrete blocks lie heaped against the ocean face of the dam, breaking up the swell. Boats and kayaks from Sai Kung town round the headland for the view no footpath gives. Po Pin Chau is a slab the sea cut off the cliff behind it: first a cave, then an arch, then a free-standing stack of columns dropping into deep water. After the last minibus the dam empties, nothing on it is lit, and the reservoir turns into one long black mirror. That reservoir was never dug. Two dams sealed a sea channel at either end, the seawater was pumped out, and the emptied strait was filled with fresh water. Cutting the East Dam is what opened the rock face you have been walking along.