I have hiked this highpoint twice, once in horrible weather in May 1996, and again in spectacular late-winter conditions with snow still on the ground, March 1999. I have been in the area on two other occasions. My first time was back in July 1993, when I had just morphed into a highpointing nut and decided to go seek out the Oklahoma highpoint. But armed with only a Rand McNally atlas, I had little idea where to go once I arrived in Kenton, so I passed on an attempt at that time. I was also back in Kenton/Black Mesa in September 2002 as part of the national Highpointers convention. This was a fantastic experience, meeting so many interesting people and having a great time car-camping on the grounds of Camp Billy Joe just east of Kenton. Although Black Mesa was right there, I opted not to climb it and instead fed my county highpoint habit with some nearby ones in Kansas and Colorado. It seems I get here once every three years, so I guess I'll go back in 2005! I must say, this area in the absolute extreme western bit of Oklahoma is beautiful, just beautiful. It is a land of well-defined mesas, canyons and the meandering Cimarron River, with grasslands and juniper forests coloring the hillsides. This is quite a surprise if coming in from Oklahoma as the land up to this point is about as flat as land can get. Boise City (pronounced "Boys"), the county seat, still retains many authentic buildings from the early 1900s. I like this part of Oklahoma! Okay, now for my trip reports:

First visit, May 25, 1996: As I drove south from the Kansas highpoint, which I did early this morning, the weather, which was fairly bad all along, became downright nasty. The clouds turned black, the horizons disappeared and the lightning was relentless. I stopped in the town of Lamar for some information. They pretty much said I'd have to take my chances like everyone else. The only reason I had any optimism was that the temperatures were barely creeping above 40, so I figured the likelihood of a twister was therefore lower than otherwise.

After a couple more hours. I crossed into Oklahoma and stopped in the little town of Boise City, county seat of Cimarron county, for a food and potty break. The rain had let up but wind gusts of about 50 mph did little to appease my nervousness. I continued along the local routes to Kenton, a tiny town just south of Black Mesa. Near Kenton, the utter flatness of the Oklahoma panhandle suddenly gives away to badlands and mesas, and is actually quite an attractive area. I stopped at "The Merc" and conferred with Alan, the owner, for some info. This was a wise thing for me to do: He is the honorary highpoint steward and a wealth of information, as well as a very nice fellow. He also told me of the new northern route that had just been opened to hikers. Apparently the southern access was now closed due to the landowners' requests. Definitely stop at the Merc for good conversation and a decent burger!

I drove to the access parking lot, and parked. A small ladder allows access up and over the barbed wire fencing encircling the land. I followed the trail - old jeep tracks - as it meandered along the flat desert floor. I had reasonable visibility, about a half-mile’s worth, and after about 15 minutes came upon a surprise: three other hikers! They were coming down from the top and heading back to their car. We chatted a bit before moving on.

After about two miles of hiking along the desert floor, the tracks began a quick ascent up the side of the mesa, following a road that even for a 4wd vehicle would be very rough and exposed. After less than a mile, I came upon some more fencing and considerably heavier fog. I was now on top of the mesa. By this time, the fog was extremely dense and I could see only about 20 feet in all directions. Also, the weather began acting up again and the rain fell heavier, augmented by gustier winds. I seriously considered turning back but always told myself "10 more minutes". I was almost jogging, just hoping to come upon the stone pillar marking the highpoint. Finally, after about 20 minutes of blindly hiking atop the mesa, a shadowy figure emerged from the mist: the highpoint marker! I tagged the marker, signed the register, took two lousy photographs and immediately hightailed it back down. The rain and wind was just too heavy and consistent for my taste.

As I hiked back down and lost elevation, I emerged out of the fog-soup and once again had some semblance of visibility. I jogged most of the way down, battling the wind and rain, and now the lightning. Within an hour, I’d made it all the way back to my car, dead tired, muddy and soaked. Yes, I was successful in summitting Black Mesa, but I didn’t derive any special joy from it, due to the conditions. I changed back into drier clothes and headed back to Kenton and the Merc. At the Merc, I enjoyed a good burger and good conversation with the proprietors. They made this portion of the trip worthy.

I still had some distance to travel and a few hours of sunlight remaining to do it in, so after about an hour in Kenton, I hit the road, popping into New Mexico and following the highway down toward Clayton, which sits near the NM-TX-OK borders. My drive into Clayton was done in extremely heavy rain, hail and lightning, with pitch black skies. Beautiful twister weather. While driving much faster than I should have, I sped south, always keeping an eye out for a funnel (with my camera ready to snap a few shots!). Luckily, I saw none, and arrived in Clayton safely. Without making a stop, I proceeded west toward Raton NM, about 100 miles away. It was about 5 p.m. and I could see some sunlight way off on the western horizon. The view toward the east was pitch black, while to the south it was muddled with clouds of all different hues, plus some ominous horizontal ribbon-type clouds in a corkscrew motif. As long as all this was in my rear-view mirror, I had no quarrel with it. What I did find interesting was all the east-bound travelers heading toward Clayton simply exiting the highway, driving across the median and merging onto the west-bound lanes. They probably sensed the same bad karma that I did. Anyway, I made it into Raton and took a hotel room. While watching the Weather Channel that night, they showed footage of the supercells developing in the Texas Panhandle, and some footage of twisters touching down near Pampa. I had dodged a bullet, for sure. Exciting, but a bit too scary. I’ve experienced a number of earthquakes while living in California, including three major temblors, and still I was far more spooked by the weather I encountered on this day.

Second Visit, March 14, 1999: For Spring Break, I decided to go back to Black Mesa and do it again in better conditions. I made a marathon drive from my home in Chandler, Arizona, to Tucumcari, New Mexico, covering 650 miles and getting a cheap hotel in town. Tucumcari is nothing but cheap hotels. Maybe that's what "Tucumcari" translates as, "the place of sleep for little wampum". Anywho, I left Tucumcari early the 14th and drove the back roads toward the northeast corner of the state, where it meets up with the Oklahoma panhandle. A late winter storm had moved through about two days earlier and had left a few inches of snow on the ground, but warm temperatures that followed melted most of it and the roads were clear. After 120 miles, I arrived in the town of Clayton for gas and proceeded north via a local highway toward my objective. This part of New Mexico is flat grazing country, but west of Clayton are some oddly shaped mountains rising about 2,000 feet above the plain. These are plugs from long-vanished volcanoes, and they are quite a sight looming out of the flatness. Also, the dusting of snow gave these plugs and the countryside a ghostly appearance, augmented by the early morning ground fog resulting from the snow and bright sun. Fortunately, the fog was minimal.

As I drove along this highway, it suddenly dropped into a valley of mesas, the largest and most prominent being Black Mesa. Black Mesa is mostly in New Mexico, with just a bit extending into Oklahoma, but just enough to give Oklahoma its highest point of elevation. I entered Oklahoma, passed through the tiny town of Kenton, and followed a side road a few miles to the trailhead, arriving about 9 a.m. my time (Arizona time; I don’t reset my timepieces on these journeys). Since the trail is on the north side of the mesa, it had less snow melt and ergo, more snow, but not very much. I talked briefly with a fellow named Tim from Massachusetts who had just come down from his hike, got my boots on, packed a light pack, and set out on my way. I had bright blue skies, temperatures in the mid-40s, and absolutely gorgeous views on the snow-shrouded countryside. The only downside: muddy, goopy trails. I walked on the snow most of the way.

After about 40 minutes of hiking along the desert floor, I started up the side of the mesa along the old access road. All of the elevation on this hike is gained in about a half mile as one walks up this grade, and by the time I hit the top of the mesa I was feeling a bit winded. From here, it was about another mile of following the jeep ruts until I could spy the nine-foot tall obelisk marking the highpoint sticking up out of the horizon. I arrived at the highpoint after a total of 1 hour and 10 minutes of hiking (4 miles one way), meeting up with a couple, Matt and Yvonne from Flagstaff, who’d beaten me to the top by about 20 minutes, although I never saw them while hiking. They were on their way to hike the Appalachian Trail and were knocking off a few highpoints along their way. They were most kind and we talked for a few minutes, at which time they began their trek back down, while I stayed at the obelisk and ate an apple. The weather was superb and it was even warming up quite a bit. Shortly, I began my hike down. I caught up with Matt and Yvonne about half way, and we hiked together back to the cars. The warming temperatures had melted quite a bit of the snow that was on the ground barely two hours earlier. Total, it took me just under three hours to do the while hike, including over a half hour at the top. This was one of the most satisfying highpoints I have done, since the weather and scenery was so fantastic. It more than made up for my soaking experience my first time up in 1996.

After a brief stop back in Kenton to sign their visitor’s log, I headed east toward Boise City. The route quickly climbs out of the valley floor and attains the mind-numbing flatness of the Oklahoma/Texas panhandle region. This is just scrubby flat cattle country, so flat and featureless that even I have trouble keeping a bearing without referring to a map. However, looking toward the west one can see Black Mesa jut above the groundline, with its dark color suggesting its name.

Back on the road, I whizzed through Boise City and started down into Texas toward Amarillo and Lubbock. Once in Lubbock, I had to address my next plan of action: drive a ton more miles into Louisiana for its highpoint, which I missed out on in 1997, or just go back home to Arizona. Although I wanted to re-do the Louisiana highpoint properly, it was still over 600 miles away and I had trouble justifying all that driving for such a measly highpoint. On the other hand, I figured that it would be even more preposterous, and more expensive, to buy a plane ticket, rent a car and do the Louisiana highpoint that way. So I decided to gut it out and go for it; you can read about it here. East it was along Interstate-20. The sun was starting to set, and I managed another couple of hundred miles before taking a hotel in Eastland, about two hours west of Dallas. Total mileage on this day: 647.