Robidoux Pass

Robidoux Pass, also known as Roubadeau Pass, Roubedeau Pass, Roubideau Pass, Roubidoux Passis and Roubadeau Pass Gap, is a gap passing through the Wildcat Hills near Scottsbluff, Nebraska about 9 miles (14 km) west of Gering, Nebraska. The gap was on the route of the historic Oregon or Emigrant Trail. It is at an elevation of 4,554 feet (1,388 m). Used by thousands of emigrants to the west from 1843-1851, the pass is a National Historic Landmark.

The area was named for members of the Robideau family, either Antoine or Joseph E. Robideau (also spelled Robidoux), who in the 1840s maintained a trading post east of the gap and later one at Scottsbluff. It contained blacksmith and grog shops, as well as other goods. The pass lies a few miles west southwest of Scottsbluff, Nebraska in broken country south of the North Platte River and the Wildcat Hills.

Scotts Bluff blocked wagon travel along the south bank of the North Platte River, forcing early travelers to swing south and go through Robidoux Pass, a natural gateway in the great bluffs. In 1850, a shorter route was opened through Mitchell Pass, just south of the monument itself and much closer to the Platte River and eliminated the eight-mile swing south.

A local road, Robidoux Road, now passes through the gap. Robidoux Pass is located south of Scotts Bluff National Monument, 4.5 miles (7.2 km) south and 8 miles (13 km) west of Gering, Nebraska off Nebraska Highway 71 on Robidoux Road.

The site was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1961.

Its significance, as of designation in 1961, was described as:

Robidoux Pass was a significant landmark on the Oregon Trail. In 1848, an Indian trader named Robidoux established a trading post near this natural landmark on the old Oregon Trail. This route fell into disuse after the opening of Mitchell Pass in 1851 and the buildings disappeared.

The Robidoux Trading Post has been reconstructed based on archeological evidence, as well as frequent accounts about it in traveler's diaries.

Famous quotes containing the word pass:

    O for a man who is a man, and, as my neighbor says, has a bone in his back which you cannot pass your hand through! Our statistics are at fault: the population has been returned too large. How many men are there to a square thousand miles in this country? Hardly one.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)