Desert Gazette

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Tag: Mojave Desert history

  • Historical Overview of the Borate & Daggett Railroad

    Introduction The Borate & Daggett Railroad, a short-lived yet pivotal narrow-gauge railway, played a crucial role in the borax mining industry in California’s Mojave Desert at the turn of the 20th century. Its impact on the industry and its transition from traditional mule team freight to an efficient rail-based network make it a significant part of mining history.

    In 1898, the Pacific Coast Borax Company, led by Francis Marion “Borax” Smith, constructed a narrow-gauge line that ran approximately 11 miles from the railhead in Daggett, California, to the mining camp of Borate near Calico. This railroad aimed to haul colemanite, a borax ore, out of the Calico Mountains, replacing the famous twenty-mule team wagon transports that had carried borax across the desert in the 1890s. The Borate & Daggett Railroad transitioned from traditional mule team freight hauling to an efficient rail-based network. It became a crucial link in a broader system of borax railroads that ultimately extended to Death Valley.

    In the late 19th century, miners discovered large borax deposits in California’s deserts. They valued borax for its use in detergents and industrial processes. In 1883, prospectors found a rich colemanite borax deposit in the Calico Mountains. Mining entrepreneur William Tell Coleman, known for operating borax mines in Death Valley and using 20-mule team wagons to haul borax across long desert routes, acquired the claim. Coleman later sold his borax properties to Francis Marion Smith, who formed the Pacific Coast Borax Company in 1890.

    By the late 1890s, the Borate mine near Calico produced thousands of tons of ore annually. Initially, borax was transported to the railhead at Daggett by 20-mule teams, a slow and costly process. An attempt to replace the teams with a steam-powered traction engine named “Old Dinah” failed due to the desert terrain, leading to the innovative solution of building a narrow-gauge railroad. This marked a significant transition from traditional mule team freighting to a more efficient rail-based network, reducing costs and modernizing transport.

    Construction of the Borate & Daggett Railroad (1898)

    The railroad was completed in 1898, running 11 miles from Daggett to Borate through Mule Canyon. It used a 3-foot gauge track with steep grades and trestles to navigate the rugged terrain. Two Heisler steam locomotives, “Marion” and “Francis,” handled the ore trains. A roasting mill was built midway at a Marion site to process the ore before shipment, and a third rail allowed standard-gauge boxcars to be loaded there.

    Operations and Infrastructure

    The railroad regularly hauled borax ore to Daggett, where workers reloaded it into Santa Fe Railway cars for transport. The system improved efficiency, replacing the mule teams entirely and reducing costs. The mill at Marion roasted and sacked the ore, streamlining shipment by loading directly into standard-gauge cars.

    Replacing the Twenty-Mule Teams

    The railroad’s completion in 1898 marked the end of the mule team era for borax hauling in the Calico region. Daggett, once a hub for mule teams, evolved into a rail center. The shift to rail transport significantly increased output and reliability for the Pacific Coast Borax Company.

    Expansion to Death Valley:

    The Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad By 1904, ore quality at Borate declined. Smith turned to the Lila C Mine near Death Valley, discovered richer deposits, and began building the standard-gauge Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad in 1905. By 1907, the new line reached Death Valley Junction, prompting the shutdown of the Borate & Daggett line. Operators relocated all activities north, resulting in the abandonment of the narrow-gauge line.

    The Death Valley Railroad, built in 1914, served the new mines at Ryan, CA. It connected to the Tonopah & Tidewater at Death Valley Junction. Equipment from the Borate & Daggett line, including its locomotives, was reused during construction. The Borate & Daggett, Tonopah & Tidewater, and Death Valley railroads formed a network supporting the borax industry across eastern California and Nevada.

    Decline and Abandonment

    In 1907, they abandoned the Borate & Daggett Railroad, removed the tracks, and relocated or stored the equipment. The Borate mine and camp stood deserted, while Daggett’s narrow-gauge facilities lay unused. Workers later moved a locomotive repair shop from the line to Daggett and repurposed it.

    Legacy and Remnants Today

    Even though the railroad has been gone for over a century, off-roaders still use the route through Mule Canyon, where you can see remnants of trestles and the old roadbed. Ruins and mine openings still mark the Borate townsite. A historic garage built from the original repair shop still stands in Daggett. Death Valley museums showcase artifacts like Old Dinah and original 20-mule team wagons.

    The Borate & Daggett Railroad helped usher in a new era of borax mining, replacing animal transport with rail efficiency. Its brief life laid the groundwork for a more extensive borax rail network, which was crucial in the history of desert mining.

  • The Story of Garces Rock

    In the spring of 1776, while revolution stirred on the East Coast, something quieter, though no less meaningful, was happening far in the West. A Spanish Franciscan missionary, Father Francisco Garces, was on his fifth and final journey into the heart of what is now California.

    Guided by Native people and traveling by foot and mule, Father Garces came up through the Antelope Valley, tracing ancient indigenous trails through uncharted territory to Europeans. From there, he pressed on into the San Joaquin Valley, turned east and crossed the rugged mountains near Tehachapi, and continued into the dry interior, heading toward the Mojave River.

    During this leg of the journey, near the base of Castle Butte, east of present-day California City, someone in his party left behind a quiet message. Carved into a large boulder was a simple inscription:
    “Cura Garces – Abril 1776.”
    A trace is left in stone to mark their passage through the high desert.

    That rock sat in silence for more than 150 years. Then, around 1935, an old prospector pointed it out to a man named Mike Sanchez, but the story of the stone didn’t go far. Sanchez wasn’t much of a talker, and the tale faded.

    Later, in 1963, local historian Glen Settle gave a talk at an elementary school in Lancaster. A teacher there told him about the rock. One of her students—Mike Sanchez’s son—had shared the story, and he even had a hand-drawn map.

    Two years later, in 1965, Settle and several other members of the Kern Antelope Historical Society followed that map and found the rock. It had already suffered some vandalism, so the group relocated it to a safe location. They called in a local man with a truck and a sturdy A-frame hoist. With help from a few Air Force sergeants, they carefully transported the rock to the Tropico Gold Camp Museum in Rosamond.

    They brought in experts to study it. One priest, an authority on early Spanish California, confirmed that the words and cross were consistent with 18th-century Franciscan markings. The weathering on the carving was old, possibly as old as Garces’ journey.

    During the 1976 U.S. Bicentennial, organizers mounted the rock on a traveling display. They showed it at schools and events throughout the Antelope Valley. It was a rare, tangible link between the Mojave Desert and the very year the United States was born.

    In 1979, the rock was loaned to the new East Kern Historical Museum in California City, close to where it had first rested centuries earlier.

    Then, tragedy struck in the dark hours of February 4, 1981. The museum caught fire. Local fire crews responded quickly, but upon arrival, the wooden structure was already fully engulfed in flames.

    At first glance, the Garces Rock seemed to have survived the blaze. But it crumbled into fragments when someone gently touched it the next morning. The heat from the fire, followed by cold water from the hoses, had cracked and fractured the boulder beyond saving—even the carved inscription dissolved into dust.

    Firefighters did everything they could. There was nothing left.

    What was lost that night wasn’t just a rock. It was a rare and quiet witness to a moment of deep historical significance—when a European missionary followed Native guidance across the mountains, valleys, and deserts of early California.

    Father Garces didn’t live long after his desert crossing. He was killed near the Colorado River in 1781, near what is now Yuma, Arizona. But his name still lives on in places like Garces Memorial High School in Bakersfield—built near the spot he once called a “beautiful place for a mission.”

    Though the rock is gone, the story remains. It’s kept alive by teachers, old-timers, maps passed down, and folks who care enough to remember. It’s proof that sometimes the desert whispers back—and if you listen closely, you can still hear the footsteps of history echoing through the sand.