‘There is no act more arrogant than that of stacking rocks along a path. There is no need for it but to prove that a past traveler has conquered a pass or sat meditating at a pond previous to those in the present. The anonymity of the ‘Rock Tower’ (versus more traditional forms of vandalism) further makes the point- the structure is no modern tomb, no personal memorial. It does not exist as a medium with which a person’s name might live on after them. It is, at best, the licking of a baked good, the unnecessary reminder that others have come first, traveled further, and had the time for idle activities. It is an insistence that denizens of the present are merely shadows cast by those who came before them.
There are two approaches in the conquering of a ‘Rock Tower.’ The creation of a new, more complex tower is the common choice. It is proof that the past can be beaten at its own game, though this is accomplished at the detriment of the future (where this method becomes increasingly difficult) and to the relative indifference of the past (the progenitors never having to face their defeat). It is the opinion of the author that the propagation of ‘Rock Towers’ is always a failing move.
The only appropriate answer, then, is the toppling of ‘Towers’ and the dispersion of rocks, though opponents would rightfully suggest this is a strategy better suited to the philosophy of the Strangers. It is one of only a few origin stories given much credence, that the most dedicated, the most fastidious Rangers are the most likely to convert. The narrative suggests that the Ranger philosophy will be warped after decades of patient trail-cleaning. After years of hauling rocks back to where they belong, after weeks spent dismantling tedious stone structures, after one last ‘Rock Tower’ collapses painfully across a leg, the Ranger is martyred on the path and replaced by the Stranger, who violently pursues the same goals.‘
-excerpt, Autumn by the Wayside
