Veteran hikers who remember Utah's famed Cedar Mesa from 20 years ago are the first to say the place has changed.
There are still spectacular Anasazi cliff ruins tucked in the most picturesque canyons imaginable. There are still fragments of ancient pottery scattered about. Corncobs and metates, too.There are still glistening pools of water reflecting a palette of sandstone reds and whites.
"In terms of sites per square mile, Cedar Mesa has one of the densest concentrations of archaeological sites anywhere in the world," said Phil Gezon, recreation planner for the Bureau of Land Management in Monticello, which manages the mesa.
"Some of the sites you see are magnificent in terms of architecture and design, and others are more subtle. They both contribute to making it the most amazing outdoor museum anywhere," he said.
But Cedar Mesa is different today. Different in a bad way and different in a good way.
On one hand, a crush of visitors has taken its toll on this extremely fragile environment.
Fueled by a plethora of magazine articles touting the stupendous beauty of these southeastern Utah canyons, the mesa has been transformed from a quiet place known to only dedicated backpackers and a handful of archaeologists into a hiker's mecca unlike any other.
In fact, some 15,000 people a year now scurry through these canyons, each clamoring for a glimpse into the past when the Anasazi lived comfortably tucked onto cliff ledges, or when their Basketmaker predecessors lived in giant alcoves.
Each, to some extent, erodes a little bit of the past.
On the other hand, the visitation has forced land managers to actually manage the resources and preserve them for future generations. That is no easy task when you consider the mesa covers 480,000 acres of mostly roadless country southeast of Lake Powell and west of Blanding.
It used to be that anybody could just drive onto Cedar Mesa, hike into any canyon they wanted, camp wherever they wanted, build a roaring bonfire and do pretty much as they please.
Under recent rules, almost every aspect of the visitor experience is now regulated (see related content, above). No fires, no camping in the canyons. Certain access roads have been closed.
"Because the place is getting more attention, it receives more management. And more management means more rules," said BLM archaeologist Dale Davidson. "They key to its long-range future is proactive management now."
At the core of the new Cedar Mesa experience is a requirement that all visitors have a permit to hike and camp, not just in the Grand Gulch Primitive Area, but in all canyons on the mesa.
That permit requires visitors to have contact with BLM rangers who can educate them on what the rules are and about proper etiquette when hiking and camping among archaeological sites.
"The permit system forces people to interact with our folks," Davidson says. "It also allows us to limit the numbers of people in any one area, thereby limiting damage."
It also allows the BLM to suggest that unprepared hikers should consider less-vigorous experiences somewhere else.
Two decades ago, visitors to the area were experienced, well-prepared hikers and backpackers. Today's weekend warriors are just not as knowledgable.
"What we have seen is that users have become less sophisticated as backcountry travelers. They are not as competent as a whole," Davidson said. "There are still a lot of competent ones, but there are a lot who don't have the skills and shouldn't be here."
Davidson relates a story of one woman who recently got lost in Fish Canyon, and she kept calling the BLM offices in Monticello from her cell phone to have someone talk her out of the canyon.
"This is not a place for novices, and we see a lot of people bite off more than they can chew," Gezon added.
The new permit system also requires those who hike and camp there to pay user fees -- $8 per person for campers and $2 per person for day-use hikers. That money goes into a fund used to hire three rangers who patrol the mesa, guarding against vandalism, pothunting and unethical behavior.
The BLM is hoping to build a new visitor contact station with the money, but that is tied up in court.
The issue is one of visitor contact, either at the ranger station or in the canyons. The more contact the BLM makes, the more educated users become and the greater the preservation of the resources for future generations.
"In one respect it is a world-class outdoor museum without significant control of access," Gezon said. "And it is also a wilderness experience thrown in. Kind of a mixture of a treasure hunt and a jungle gym."
Davidson and Gezon agree the permit system -- a radical departure from the anything-goes past -- has worked better than they ever anticipated. Not only have users embraced the idea of regular contacts with rangers, but they willingly fork over the cash to keep the system working.
There have been some complaints and misunderstandings, mostly because visitors arrived there not knowing about the new regulations requiring fees and reservations.
Some have thumbed their noses at the BLM, but they are a very small minority. One visitor refused to obey the rules, not only once, but twice. A judge subsequently banned the man from visiting the mesa ever again.
"Some people have had doubts when they see it is different than it used to be, but once they see what we are trying to do, most of them are supportive," Gezon said.
They become even more supportive when they realize the permit system spreads people out more across the mesa.
"Visitors tend to see fewer other people in their favorite spots, and that enhances their experience," Gezon said. "It has been a real eye-opener, not just for the visitors but for us."
Other changes could be afoot in some areas. The BLM has experimented with moveable rope barriers to keep people out of sensitive sites where visitation is unacceptably high, places like Turkey Pen and Junction Ruin.
Initial studies show most visitors respect the barriers, which may be installed at certain other sites suffering from erosion and needing immediate protection.
"The experience is not what some people may remember from the '70s," Davidson said. "But if we are to preserve it for future generations, then these steps are critical."
The majestic Anasazi ruins tucked like sentinels in the narrow, weather-twisted canyons is magical, drawing people back year after year, added Gezon. In fact, two-thirds of those who visit Cedar Mesa every year are repeat customers.
"These people more than any others want the experience preserved," he said.
For more information or reservations, contact the BLM at, Cedar Mesa-Grand Gulch Permit Reservation Office, P.O. Box 7, Monticello, Utah, 84535, or call 435-587-1532.