Saying Goodbye to One of Oklahoma’s Best Proprietors

It was July 4 weekend of 2008 when I first met Vicki Roberts. My friends and I had decided to spend that summer exploring corners of Oklahoma we didn’t feel we knew well enough, and as is true for most Oklahomans, our list included the Black Mesa area at the tip of the Panhandle.

It’s nothing to feel bad about: Black Mesa is, from my home in Oklahoma City, about a six-and-a-half hour drive through some mightily monotonous (yet quite beautiful) prairie landscapes. It’s always worth the trip, sure, but the trip can be tough to arrange. After all, unlike most spots in Oklahoma, it’s not really the kind of place you can visit in a weekend.

So my friends and I decided to head out for July 4 weekend that year. Our rooms at the Kenton Mercantile were canceled at the last minute—the place closed that weekend and never has been open since—so my friend Jaye called around and found us a couple of rooms in the Bunkhouse at the Black Mesa Bed & Breakfast.

Kenton's Black Mesa Bed & Breakfast as it appeared in 2008.

When we drove up to the red-roofed B&B, we immediately were greeted by Vicki, the tall, friendly proprietor, who bade us have a seat on her expansive front porch. The afternoon had grown long and hot as summer afternoons do, and we sat for awhile watching a rainstorm pour down. We hadn’t stopped to eat, so Vicki invited us to the town’s senior center that evening, where a potluck Fourth of July dinner was taking place. We enjoyed burgers and watermelon, pink lemonade and the kind company of the twenty or so people who call Kenton home. It was an absolutely perfect welcome to what was, for us, a new place.

Sunserts are hard to beat in Oklahoma's panhandle.

A July 4 potluck dinner provided much needed sustenance during the 2008 trip.

The B&B was pet-friendly, and our Golden Retriever, Sam, loved exploring the pastures and fields behind the property. We lost Sam in 2011, and our trips to Black Mesa with him are some of our best memories.

Sam at Black Mesa Bed & Breakfast

When we got a new dog, Fred, Black Mesa was the first trip we took her on, when she was just three months old. We all went up for the Okie-Tex Star Party, a gathering of amateur astronomers that attracts visitors from all over the continent every September:

A young Fred at Black Mesa Bed & Breakfast

Supremely dark skies are a big reason why the Okie-Tex Star Party is popular among stargazers.

I grew to love trips to Black Mesa. First, there’s a ton to do up there: The state park, the hike to the state’s highest point, the three-state marker, the dinosaur footprints—all so much fun to explore. But I found myself drawn back time and again for the quiet. It feels like there’s something in the air at Black Mesa, something huge and quiet and calming, and I feel my feet on the ground every time I’m there.

I also came to adore Vicki and her husband Monty Joe. On our first visit, Vicki saw a bumper sticker on my car that expressed a political view with which she disagreed, and she came to find me to sweetly encourage me to pray about my vote before I cast it. I promised her I would, and I kept that promise. Later that night, I took her a huge bag of cucumbers I’d harvested from my garden and brought with me.

Visits to Kenton became as much about visiting the Roberts as it did about anything else. We came back year after year, and when I came to work at Oklahoma Today, one of the first stories I suggested was a piece about Black Mesa Bed and Breakfast. In 2012, the attorney and philanthropist Reggie Whitten invited me to come up with a group of artists and creatives, mostly from Tulsa, to visit Black Mesa and see what he and his foundation were doing there.

My good friend—and our 2011 Oklahoman of the Year—Mary Beth Babcock came along on that trip. She’s as enamored with Kenton and the Roberts as I am, and she’s been back many times as well. In 2013, Mary Beth and I collaborated on a book about Black Mesa with the incredible photographers Jeremy Charles and Travis Hall.

Mary Beth poses with the Roberts during a Black Mesa trip. Photo courtesy Mary Beth Babcock

Magical things happened on that trip. There were inspirations and art projects and friendships made. One of my favorite memories is the night we all sat up in the B&B’s Bunkhouse while our friend David Bizarro—who would go on to, among many other things, puppeteer for Sesame Street and Waffles & Mochi—read scary stories:

Magical things always happened at Black Mesa. Vicki was a woman of great faith, and I think her belief attracted good things to her. The last time we were there was 2021—far, far too long—and COVID still was making travel a challenge. We drove up, arrived in the middle of a horrendous (but so welcome) rainstorm, and were sitting for awhile drying off in Vicki and Monty Joe’s living room. Just as we’re getting comfy, the door opens, and in walk that night’s other guests—one of whom was a dear friend whom I hadn’t known was coming up. I screamed, we hugged, and the magic was there again.

As much as I love and will miss the B&B, I love and will miss Vicki more. She was kind, she was devastatingly funny, and she made a mean prickly pear syrup. From the first moment I met her, she felt like family to me, and visiting her place always seemed more like visiting relatives than patronizing a small business. She had a way of making everyone feel welcome, and when she told you to come back, you knew she meant it.

Through its years of operation, the Black Mesa Bed & Breakfast has helped many travelers take in one of the state's

I’ll miss her so, so much, and I’m going to make it a point to go up as soon as I can and pay my respects to Monty Joe. While I’m there, I’m going to look up into that magical western sky at Black Mesa, and whatever the big, quiet, calming thing is that hovers in the air there, I’m going to believe Vicki is there too, and I’ll look into that forever sky—you really can see into infinity out at Black Mesa—and I’ll say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Written By

Nathan Gunter

A sixth-generation Oklahoman, Weatherford native, and Westmoore High School graduate, Nathan Gunter is the magazine's editor-in-chief. When he's not editor-in-chiefing, Nate enjoys live music, running, working out, gaming, cooking, and random road trips with no particular destination in mind. He holds degrees from Wake Forest University and the University of Oklahoma. He learned how to perform poetry from Maya Angelou; how to appreciate Italian art from Terisio Pignatti; comedy writing from Doug Marlette; how to make coconut cream pie from his great-grandma; and how not to approach farm dogs from trial and error. A seminary dropout, he lives just off Route 66 in Oklahoma City.