Stacked in silence: Investigating the rock cairn of Highway 54

For years, Chapel Hill residents would notice them: the intentionally stacked rocks along Highway 54, their arrangement forming unique, abstract sculptures. Some rocks, at times, would tower high and mighty. Others would swirl along the ground, luring the observer in. 

That is how they appeared in March —  standing tall near the entrance of the William and Ida Friday Center —when we began our investigation into these sculptures. 

Preliminary research revealed little, except that the sculptures had existed long enough for people to question them, even go online and discuss them. One person — or a few people — started the Facebook page, ‘Stone Sculptures of Chapel Hill,’ to document them. Other community members have discussed them in the r/triangle Reddit community. Upon request for interviews, we received no responses from either social media platform.

Cairns often refer to stacked rocks marking a clear landmark, often on hiking trails; resting on the side of Highway 54, the location seemed irrelevant, random even. We weren’t sure what they were supposed to be memorializing, or if they were commemorating anything at all. All we had were questions, and no answers. 

So, we set out to take matters into our own hands. Tucked beneath one of the rocks forming an intricate swirl through the grass, we left a note. 

***

Driving down Highway 54 as a kid, lifelong Chapel Hill resident Max Nelson would peek out the window: there they were, he’d say, pointing the rocks out to his parents. Years went by, Nelson grew older, rocks got added. He began his bachelor’s degree at UNC, studying ecology. 

“It takes having lived here or having known people who've lived here to point that sort of thing out to you,” he said. “And, I think that that's often true of folks who are new to an area, is that you don't know about all the funky little things at first.” 

As an experienced hiker, Nelson recognizes the usefulness of cairns. He recalled moments where cairns guided him on his adventures, but he questioned the functionality of the Highway 54 cairn, sandwiched between the road and the sidewalk — two clear, concrete paths.

“I don't even know if I would say that the 54 thing still even is one,” he said. “I think it's evolved into becoming more of just an art piece or a shrine than it is a cairn because I don't think it's marking anything specific.” 

On March 20, we spoke to Justin Meckes, a writer and filmmaker. In 2019, Meckes produced and released ‘54 Stones,’ a documentary shot entirely on his iPhone about the Highway 54 cairn.

At the time, Meckes and his wife were living down the road from the sculpture.

“I couldn’t drive by it anymore without doing something with it,” he said. 

Meckes did not use his film to investigate who was building the cairn. He was more intrigued by the elements of the sculpture that made it seem alive as it shifted week to week, rather than attempting to demystify it. 

“No one was ever seen changing these stones because they want to be mysterious,” he said. “And I just wanted to add to the fact, or the idea, that maybe they were doing it of their own accord, their own volition.” 

Part of what intrigued — and still intrigues — Meckes about the cairn is its location. The complex sculpture in such a mundane spot felt intentional: simultaneously tempting onlookers and commenting on those that didn’t pay attention, he said. 

***

Selena Hernandez, a 2024 UNC graduate, moved about a minute away from the sculpture in August and began paying closer attention to it: every month or so, the rocks were rearranged.

A few times, she noticed an older gentleman reconstructing the sculpture, a bike laid beside him.

“I have wanted to ask around and see if I can figure out who he is,” she said. “But, also, the mystery of it is fun and whimsical.” 

On March 25, a man approached the sculpture: perhaps to check in on it, or get started on a new design. He noticed the paper, picked it up and typed the number into his phone. 

About a week later, we huddled together in The DTH’s conference room, waiting for the call to begin. After weeks of dead ends, we secured an interview with our most crucial source, and it was time to get the answers to the burning questions we had about this cairn. 

“ I've been asked a lot to get pictures and articles and stuff, and I just started it to be an organic thing. That was a thing to itself,” the Sculptor, who requested anonymity to maintain the mysterious nature of the piece, said. “And I hate to tell you, but I just don't want to publish any articles about it. I don't wanna reveal anything about it. I want it to be, like you said, kind of a mystery.”

We were eager and anxious to hear more, literally on the edges of our seats. The cairn was a mystery, certainly, but one that we were set on solving. After further discussion, he agreed to let us share some details about the cairn, but was insistent upon his anonymity.

The Sculptor first created the cairn years ago, he said. While on backpacking trips, he noticed cairns lining the trails, and inspiration struck.

Originally, he envisioned a “wandering cairn” made up of about six stones that changed locations every so often. The Friday Center groundskeepers removed his work, he said, but he quickly found where the rocks had been moved and reclaimed his stash. While the arrangement of the rocks changes, its location now remains the same, marked by a Google Maps historical landmark, “Gateway to Chapel Hill: Rock Cairn Public Art.”

He began all this by working exclusively at night, so as to preserve his anonymity.

“It was too hard to do, so I said, ‘fuck it,’” he said. 

While working during the day, strangers approached the Sculptor, offering stones to be used in the cairn’s next iteration. He said kids brought painted stones to the cairn, as well. 

During the pandemic, the Sculptor went on vacation for a few months. Someone close to him called him one day, and told him that his newest design — rock piles spaced six feet apart, to represent social distancing — was their favorite. Only, he had nothing to do with it. 

“ I don't own it — nobody does, right?” he said. “Please feel free to do something out there and come see me when you want to.”

@dthlifestyle | lifestyle@dailytarheel.com