Of course, if you're one of those nerds who prefer a boring, science-y explanation, there is an alternate theory -- frost wedging, which is a common geological phenomenon in cold places (and South Island can admittedly get pretty damn cold). Water will infiltrate a crack in a rock, and once the temperature gets low enough, the water freezes, turning to ice and expanding the crack. As this process is repeated countless times over thousands of years, it could eventually carve a titanic geological sea gonad like Split Apple Rock completely in half. Either that, or a giant Rune Ax was flung down from Valhalla like a shard of Ragnarok and cleft that boulder in two before detonating into clouds of mythic dust, which is clearly the superior explanation.
Christopher Bryant via Inspire Fusion
Ireland's Giant's Causeway: The Lost Levels of Q-Bert
The Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland is a series of rocky, raised columns that looks like a level from a puzzle game. It is a pile of natural Tetris pieces that cannot possibly be real, and yet totally is. In addition to looking like the palace of Q-Bert's ancestors, the causeway also provided the cover of Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy, because apparently it struck the members of that band as something naked children would climb on.
Drugs make everything seem like a great idea.
The causeway was formed by hundreds of basaltic lava columns hardening into stone 65 million years ago during a volcanic eruption. Normally, this leaves behind a flat sheet of rock, but in the case of the Giant's Causeway, the basalt actually contracted as it cooled, essentially forming the world's largest pottery collection.
Uberraschungsbilder via Wikipedia
Think of how many spectral Patrick Swayze fingers it would take to sculpt this garden.
There's a similar structure 200 miles away in Scotland, called Fingal's Cave. As its name suggests, Fingal's Cave is somewhat more enclosed than the Giant's Causeway, but you can still play real-life Q-Bert in it if you feel like shattering your femur and drowning in a pool of shimmering beauty.
Totally worth it.
As is the case with most things in the world that make no immediate sense, ancient people explained the cave and causeway with a badass myth. An Irish giant named Fionn MacCumhaill waged war against his annoying neighbor, the Scottish giant Benandonner. Fionn built the causeway (which, according to the myth, originally stretched from Ireland to Scotland) so he could march across the ocean and punch Benandonner, but soon realized he was terrible at fighting and had his wife disguise him as a baby instead. Once Benandonner saw the enormous infant, he ran off in terror, coming to the understandable conclusion that a baby that huge must have a cataclysmically gigantic father. Benandonner then destroyed most of the causeway, leaving only the Giant's Causeway in Ireland and Fingal's Cave in Scotland to confuse the almighty shit out of generations of humans.
"But wait, why would a giant build a road of tiny blocks? It ... it doesn't make sense!"
Related Reading: If you're still on the prowl for some fabulous vacation destinations, why not try this hellish maelstrom in the ocean near Scotland? If you'd rather see something amazing that won't fucking kill you, check out the Bosnian Pyramid. It's incredible, the sort of things that are just hiding on our planet.