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ally Miller considers herself to be the primary caretaker for the area that surrounds her second home. On any given weekend, Miller can be seen hoisting stones as she tends local trails, directing lost backpackers, raking weeds, offering water to thirsty passers-by and asking the occasional smoker to responsibly dispose of that cigarette.

“I’m very protective of the land and wildlife,” Miller said. “Cabin owners are a real asset to the forest.”

That’s why Miller and many of the other 330 Cleveland cabin owners are balking at a new plan unveiled by the National Forest Service, which oversees the federal property. The service’s forest plan requires all homes to comply with environmental and land use guidelines--or face having their 60- to 70-year-old cabins destroyed. A history of tension between cabin owners and park officials isn’t making the situation any easier.

Park officials insist this isn’t the threat that some residents believe it to be. Any violators will be given adequate time to bring their homes into compliance, they say. But the proposal has so rattled the heart of this rural community that cabin owners and Forest Service representatives will meet today to discuss the fate of the forest, and the future of their cherished homes.

If the situation isn’t resolved to the satisfaction of residents, they say they are prepared to start a drive to grant historical preservation status to the quaint cabins, many of which once served as getaway destinations for Hollywood’s silent-film stars.

The goal of the new forest plan is to make sure that residential use of the land isn’t interfering with the quality of the area’s running water, or the habitat of the wildlife and plant life along the river. The plan also dictates how to best preserve the habitat of threatened and endangered species, including the arroyo toad.

Many of the cabin permits have never measured up against the National Environmental Protection Act Standards, because most were built long before the legislation took effect.

“Right now we’re in the beginning stages of the project and don’t have all of the answers,” said Mary Thomas, a Forest Service biologist who will help conduct the assessment. “Ultimately, if we can’t get a cabin to meet with the standards, then there is a possibility it will have to be torn down, so I can understand the anxiety.”

Residents also question the project’s validity and fear that it’s a guise to get rid of them.

“My guess is that they want to knock some of these places out,” said Chuck Cushman, executive director of American Land Rights Assn., a national group that advocates property rights interests, and has begun working with local residents. The association has fought the Forest Service over permit fees and what Cushman considers the application of the Endangered Species Act to push out cabin owners.

“We view it as highly likely that Forest Service will try to get rid of people. . . . Some of them there believe that all of our forests should be purified of any activities by man,” he said.

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Others agree. Why, they ask, is the park service so concerned with the residences confined to a relatively small area?

“Here they own half the state of California and they’re putting me on the spot for a piece of land the size of this room,” said Hot Springs cabin owner Fred Cole.

Wildfires that tore through the area in 1993 destroyed many cabins, and Forest Service officials refused to allow many to be rebuilt, much to the dismay of longtime residents.

Cushman’s organization has advised the Cleveland Forest dwellers to apply to have their cabins placed on the National Historic Register, which would protect the homes from destruction.

“Many of the cabins were built in the heyday of the Hot Springs,” said Tim Bolen, a resident who plans to take Cushman’s advice. “They were a watering hole for silent-movie stars. This was their hiding place.”

Miller and others vow to do whatever they must to stay. And it’s easy to see why.

On a pocket of federal parkland between Orange and Riverside counties, her 1926 hideaway boasts spectacular views of the hillside. The gray, pale pink and black stones that make up the storybook cottage were all brought from the San Juan Creek, which rolls right past her back porch.

The cabin is all hand-tooled, with the smallest rocks saved for the turrets circling the cabin’s frame. Inside are asymmetrical nooks where Miller says she “rejuvenates” so she can better perform her work as a therapist. She also plays there on the weekends, escaping traffic, pollution and frenzy that characterizes her lifestyle in Fullerton.

“I want to work with the Forest Service on this, yet I find what’s happening to be threatening,” Miller said. “This place is my sanctuary. The thought of it gone absolutely destroys my spirit. It’s sad that this heritage wouldn’t be cherished and respected.”