20 Mule Teams and Borax

Imagine a conversation with a Twenty Mule Team muleskinner...

I'm a muleskinner, proud to be one and good at my job. I don't skin mules--I drive 'em, that's what muleskinner means. You may not know it, but mules is the smartest thing on 4 feet. Speakin' of smart, I work for a real smart man named Coleman who owns the Harmony Borax Works right here in Death Valley. He'd seen some muleskinners driv' 8 or 12 mules at a time and they was haulin' some pretty heavy loads, so ole man Coleman he thinks to himself, if 8 mules can pull ten tons and 12 can pull twice that, it stands to reason that if you hook 20 mules up and build bigger wagons, them mules should be able to pull nigh unto 40 tons So that's what Coleman did. Shelled out about $900 for each of 10 wagons, 16 feet by 4 feet by 6 feet deep. Durn things weigh 7800 pounds empty--36 1/2 tons loaded. And them wheels! Them back wheels is 7 feet tall, front ones is 5 feet. Eack one weighs 1000 pounds--takes me and 4 more good-sized men to change one of 'em. Funny, even though it's 1888 and we've been haulin' borax outta here for alomst 5 years--dang near 10,000 tons--not one of those wagons has broke down yet. Wheels do 'cause they take an awful beatin' in the desert, but them wagons was made real good. They'll roll forever.

So anyways, I'm meanin' to tell you what my job is like; it ain't all fun. I'm what's called a "long-line skinner" 'cause there's an 80 foot chain runnin' the length of the 165 miles of desert from here to the train depot in Mojave. Bennett's Well is 26 miles south of Harmony, then Mesquite Well, Lone Willow Spring 53 miles later on, Granite Well, Blackwater Well, and 50 miles later is Mojave. Considerin' the team can only travel at most 17 miles a day, you can see why I gotta carry enough water for everybody. Of course I don't drive from June to September--too dang hot, but even so it sometimes gets up to 125 out here. Without that water wagon we'd all be parched up like that skinner that got his head cracked open from the heat. See, I told you it ain't all fun.

Well, me and my swamper--he's the one who kinda helps me by cookin', sand scrubbin' the dishes, and pullin' on the hand-brake when we get rolling down a hill a mite too fast--we take off from Harmony when the mornin' star comes up. I hear a lotta skinners just aswearin' and carryin' on to get their mules goin'; well, if you're good like me you can move 'em out just by callin' their names real quiet-like. Not far south of Harmony we hit some mighty unfriendly territory. I'll tell you right out, I don't envy them Chinese laborers who had to take sledgehammers to beat down them sharp salt spears out there to build me a road. All they got was $1.25 a day for doin' that. My swamper he gets $2.00 a day amd me, I get $4.00 a day. See, I said I did my job good--you don't get money like that for bein' a nobody.

Anyways, we get to Bennett's Well on the second day out and refill that iron water wagon (one made outta wood would've dried up and fallen apart in this heat as soon as it got empty). When we get up to Windy Gap there's some mighty tight corners I gotta maneuver around. Now I'll tel you how smart my mules is; it's one thing drivin' along a straight road; it's a whole 'nuther thing turnin' corners on a mountain pass. My 2 lead mules, both mares, are about 80 feet ahead of me--so far away I can't even begin to use my 9 foot long whip on 'em. I've been known to throw pebbles at 'em to get their attention. Aim's too good. Back to gettin' around corners. The next 5 pairs of mules are my "swing tems", they ain't real smart, they just know their names and what 'pull' and 'stop' means. Now the next three sets of mules behind the 'swings' are my "pointers". These mules are trained special to jump over that 80 foot chain and side-step away from the curve to keep that chain tight and my wagons goin' 'round that corner right. I know most folks can't see in their mind's eye what in blazes I'm talking about, so I'll draw it out for you.

Next come the two big horses. They're strong enough to start my wagons rollin' but that's all they're good for. A dumb mule (and I ain't seen one yet) is a whole lot smarter than a smart horse. When the goin' gets rough, I ride on the "nigh wheeler" or way down. Sometimes I meet 'em in the durndest places, and never did figure out why the empty wagon has the right of way. Don't make no sense.

Speakin' of no sense--I hear rumors about what a wild bunch us skinners are, just adrinkin' and agamblin' and who knows what. Well now, ain't that bright. I am in charge of 2 lives, 18 mules that cost a pretty penny, 2 horses, and $15,000 worth of borax belongin' to Coleman and folks say I'm wild. I doubt ole man Coleman would trust his money to someone who ain't got a lick of sense.

Well, had a another pretty fair trip--got into Mojave just about 3 pm on the 10th day. Swamper and me got along okay, mainly 'cause when he looked like he was rarin' up to gab I gave him that "I ain't listenin' to no swamper" look He knows his place. I know my place too. Right here haulin' borax outta Death Valley. Ain't no other place I want to be, no other job I want to be doin'.

Source: National Park Service