Recently I came across this article about the fairly new practice of stacking rocks in wild places.
Historically, cairns (rocks piled or stacked by humans) have served important purposes, particularly in parts of the world lacking dramatic natural features to use as landmarks. A cairn might mark a trail, commemorate a mass gravesite from a battle, or be hidden behind while herding buffalo off a cliff.
But increasingly, short stacks of rocks are showing up in national parks and other natural areas. They appear to be generic “I was here” statements (or “I was here, and I was spiritually moved” or perhaps merely “I was here, and I was bored”), created with the natural materials at hand.
I’m of two minds about this practice.
On the one hand, it may be a kind of graffiti, but it seems more nature-friendly than spray paint. It’s more temporary, not as resource-intensive, produces no empty can litter, requires no manufacturing, and leaves no chemical residue.
On the other hand, the “story value” of the rocks is lost when they are removed from their places. Then there are the (perhaps minor, but it all depends on the scale of the stacking) environmental effects of moving the rocks and exposing the underlying soil to erosion. And finally, a stack of rocks changes the feel of a place. It no longer reads as a wild place, but instead proclaims another person was here. Like any human creation, a cairn impresses itself on our senses more strongly than other elements in a scene.
Of course, this is a small drop in the ocean of garden-and-nature-related issues that might concern a lover of wild places nowadays. It’s hardly worth ranting about… except that it highlights a certain carelessness about the value of our encounters with nature.
Instead of experiencing the minutiae or the glory of a landscape and responding internally, a person has chosen to respond in a public way, and in so doing has changed the landscape the rest of us experience. That should matter.