As groups from the Maldives to Myanmar call for tourism boycotts to oppose oppressive regimes and Libya's ties to terror remain a concern, more Americans are weighing the right to travel against the desire to do the right thing

I'm driving toward Australia's Uluru, the massive monolith in the middle of the Outback that's listed as a World Heritage Site for its geological importance and its deep roots in Aboriginal culture. The rock is instantly familiar, and far more stunning in person than the flat image I've seen reproduced on so many coffee cups and other trinkets. It's the Elizabeth Taylor of national icons: I can't take my eyes off it.

Like the other 400,000 tourists who flock here annually, I face a choice in how to get closer. I can respect the wishes of the Aboriginal tribe that considers Uluru sacred and view it from the ground, or I can chuck my conscience for a couple of hours and climb right up its soaring face. The topic of whether or not visitors should climb is so sensitive that park officials won't even speak about how many people actually scale the monument (during my visit, at least a hundred hikers mount the rock in less than an hour). Instead, they direct all inquiries to the capital, hundreds of miles away in Canberra. "It's a full-on political hot potato," says a park employee who asks not to be identified. The visitor pamphlet describes several spots on the rock as sacred, and asks sightseers to behave as if they were visiting someone's home or church.

As it turns out, it's less the ethical dilemma than the sheer terror of slipping off the slick-looking rock that seals my decision. But for dozens of others who do make the climb today, it's a no-brainer: After coming all this way, nothing's going to keep them from reaching the top.

"On the drive here, I was thinking, Should I or shouldn't I? Will the Aborigines try to convince me not to do it?" says Claudia Nemrich, a tourist from Germany who made the climb. "So many others have done it before us, why shouldn't we?" But Michael and Micheala Degen, also from Germany, felt otherwise. "The Aborigines don't want us to climb the rock, so my wife and I decided to respect their wishes. We feel good that we didn't do it," Michael says.

Welcome to the age of travel with a conscience. Tourists today are giving more thought to issues as small as whether to climb a sacred rock in the middle of the Australian Outback and as large as whether to visit a country that the U.S. government says has ties to terror. As this awareness grows, organizations are cropping up to help globetrotters find answers, and guidebooks on "green" and "responsible" tourism are multiplying. A survey by the U.K.-based evangelical organization Tearfund found that a majority of travelers are willing to pay extra to make sure that their vacation dollars help support local charities or sustain natural environments. In short, more people are thinking twice about the impact their visit could have on a destination.