A flood of uncertainty: Scofield land dispute locks up people's destiny

What once stood for a little bit of heaven — a getaway for their children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters — now stands for a place of contention.

What once represented a legacy handed down through generations could now be considered trespass, a dismantling of tradition delivered by dispassionate judges in another state.

A court ruling this year has presumably sealed the fate of some cabin owners along the shores of picturesque Scofield Reservoir, and left the destiny of others in limbo.

A series of complicated land transactions dating as far back as the 1920s is at the heart of the controversy.

It pits people who thought they owned property — who paid taxes on

that property, who bought and obtained building permits for that property — against the federal government which says, sorry, even though you "used" that property, it's not yours. Or if it is not yours, maybe you can stay and continue those "use rights" depending on a line drawn on a map.

It comes years after some places have been patched together, added on to, torn down, put back together after decades of handyman projects contingent on being able to spend $20 here, $30 there.

"We've been here for years," Jeanne Taskar said. "We have done it stick by stick, pay as you go."

Scofield Reservoir is about 120 miles from downtown Salt Lake City, nestled among a framework of hills and grassy mountain peaks. Past Soldier Summit in Spanish Fork Canyon, it sits south of U.S. 6 far enough off the beaten track to provide respite from frenetic city life, but still manageably close.

Dean Denison put up the wallboard on the 1969 trailer he purchased in 1978. In his remodel, he did the design, electrical work, expanded the roof.

"I basically built this one piece at a time," he said.

And now, the federal government, the Bureau of Reclamation, is like the wolf at their door, threatening to blow their cabin down with one big huff and puff.

But this is not a fairy tale. Beyond the modest manufactured homes that provide a retreat from city life are the upscale cabins purchased by dentists, doctors, professionals who can afford to plunk down hundreds of thousands of dollars for prime lakeshore property to call their own.

But possibly can't.

The Bureau of Reclamation is admittedly seen as the big bad wolf in this story, but the officials of today are as much caught in the mistakes of history as some of the landowners who had property deeds signed over to their ancestors in 1927 for a sum of "10 dollars and other goods."

Says Christopher Rich, one of the bureau's attorneys, "We don't get our jollies from kicking people out of their homes."

Summertime blues