Cairn markers are essentially the “Live, Laugh, Love” signs of the wilderness, serving as high-stakes Jenga towers for people who want to prove they were there without resorting to graffiti. While they ostensibly exist to keep hikers from wandering off a cliff, most modern cairns are just the result of someone getting bored during a granola break and deciding the local ecosystem needed a jaunty, unstable top hat. There is a specific, quiet irony in a hiker meticulously balancing five rocks to “connect with nature,” only to create a navigational hazard that leads the next person directly into a briar patch or, worse, a very confused marmot’s living room. Eventually, every trail becomes a philosophical battlefield where one person builds a stone masterpiece and the next person, fueled by a strict “Leave No Trace” ideology and a bit too much caffeine, kicks it over with the righteous fury of a vengeful mountain god.
