Rollins Pass vs. Corona Pass

Rollins Pass and Corona Pass refer to the same historic mountain crossing on Colorado’s Continental Divide—but only one name is officially recognized, historically accurate, and critical for public safety.

This matters more than ever. Clear and consistent naming is essential for public safety, regulatory compliance, identification of the Area of Potential Effects (APE), and meaningful public involvement during the Xcel Energy Louisville to Rollins Pass gas pipeline project, which is currently in the proposal and review stage and is expected to involve multi-year planning and construction activities. The corridor is nationally listed and formally recognized as Rollins Pass. When agencies, consultants, media outlets, and the public alternate between “Rollins Pass” and “Corona Pass,” it creates avoidable ambiguity regarding the location of undertaking activities, the historic properties that may be affected, and the application of relevant legal protections. Of course, regulatory due diligence is still required—but experience shows that inconsistent terminology can lead to mismatched maps, incomplete records searches, errors in project scoping, and public confusion about what area is actually under review. In a complex regulatory environment, clarity and precision are duties: consistent use of the historically accurate name in turn supports accurate documentation, appropriate identification and evaluation of historic properties, informed consultation with tribes and stakeholders, and an orderly, accountable decision-making process.

Few places in Colorado bear more names—or more confusion—than Rollins Pass. For more than a century, this high route across the Continental Divide has been renamed and reinterpreted: first Boulder Pass in the 1860s, then Rollins Pass in the 1870s, and finally “Corona Pass” during the railroad era. What began as a station nickname has grown into a century of misunderstanding that now stretches from historic newspapers and tourism guides to modern maps, GPS screens, and avalanche reports. The result is two versions of the same place—one preserved in the official record and historical documentation, the other echoed in some road signs and popular use. Sorting out which name belongs here isn’t about nostalgia or semantics; it’s about accuracy, safety, and respect for the area itself.

EARLY NAMES OF THE PASS

Indigenous peoples first traversed what we now call Rollins Pass shortly after the last ice age, around 10,000 years ago. Archaeologists James Benedict and Byron Olson documented that Native groups camped, hunted, and constructed game-drive walls across the high tundra. Centuries later, Ute and Arapaho travelers continued to use these same alpine corridors to cross the Continental Divide.

In the 1860s, early wagons crossed the Continental Divide by way of a route known as Boulder Pass. In the 1870s, John Quincy Adams Rollins built a toll road over the same crest. Soon after, maps and newspapers dropped the old name in favor of Rollins Pass—a title that honored Rollins’ bold investment in carving a zigzag road across the mountains and one that endured through the wagon and livestock eras that helped shape early Colorado.

THE RAILROAD ERA

When David Halliday Moffat’s railroad crossed the Continental Divide in 1904, workers built a summit station called Corona—Latin for “crown.” Railroad marketing embraced the “Top of the World” slogan to sell excursion tickets, but Corona was only a stop on Rollins Pass, not the pass itself. The clear majority of timetables, tickets, and posters listed Rollins Pass as the route over the Divide, while “Corona” referred only to the station at the crest. Mountain passes are not named for the depots that sit atop them: Fremont Pass, not Climax; La Veta Pass, not Fir; Rollins Pass, not Corona.

Against that backdrop, the historical record is clear. Archaeological findings, scientific literature, and federal mapping identify the crossing as Rollins Pass; “Corona Pass” does not appear as an established geographic name of the pass itself, but as a later promotional label derived from the railroad-era summit station. Confusion arose when some newspapers began referring to the area as “Corona Pass” shortly after the station opened, despite the underlying geographic name remaining unchanged. Over time, that imprecision persisted.

The pattern continues today: reports on derechos, avalanches, and trail closures still alternate between the two names—sometimes within the same paragraph. Each repetition reinforces a kind of parallel geography, one reflected in headlines and tourism copy, and another—authoritative—embedded in maps, datasets, and safety records. This clarification is not about regulating everyday language; it concerns the consistent use of geographic names in official, regulatory, safety, and interagency contexts where precision carries practical consequences.

MODERN CONFUSION

This recurring debate—Rollins Pass vs. Corona Pass—has persisted for generations, resurfacing in hiking guides, tourism brochures, and even some Forest Service materials. Today, Grand County signage and trail maps often use “Corona Pass” almost exclusively, despite its weak historical grounding. As area author and former Rollins Pass railroader Frederick Bauer once wrote, “[Rollins Pass is] incorrectly called Corona Pass by neophytes and some locals.”

The confusion extends beyond maps and guidebooks. Media coverage has often treated Rollins Pass and Corona Pass as separate places. In their published article, 9News reported the September 2020 derecho flattened tens of thousands of trees across Grand County, “the Monarch Lake Trail, the Idlewild Trail System, Rollins Pass and Corona Pass all got hit hard, with trees piled 15 feet deep.” In reality, the report listed the same corridor twice. That duplication blurs understanding, inflates impact statements, and creates the illusion of two mountain routes where only one exists.

THE OFFICIAL RECORD

Federal authority is unequivocal. The U.S. Board on Geographic Names (BGN) governs all geographic nomenclature used on federal maps, in data systems, and in official publications; its decisions are binding across all federal agencies.

• Rollins Pass is the name officially recognized by the U.S. Geological Survey and the BGN.
• Rollins Pass is the only name that appears in the Correct Orthography of Geographic Names (p. 127).
• A 1904 BGN decision card affirmed Rollins Pass as the sole accepted name.
• Rollins Pass is used in the 1997 National Register of Historic Places listing for the Rollinsville & Middle Park Wagon Road / Denver, Northwestern & Pacific Railway Hill Route Historic District.
• Rollins Pass remains the only name within the US Geological Survey (USGS) Geographic Names Information System (GNIS) and the one used in avalanche bulletins, wildfire reports, and federal land-management documents.

Under 43 U.S.C. § 364(a), the U.S. Board on Geographic Names (BGN) is established for the purpose of standardizing geographic names for Federal use. Pursuant to this authority, the Board issues decisions regarding geographic names for Federal use, and such decisions are binding on all Federal agencies (Domestic Geographic Names: Principles, Policies, and Procedures, “Decisions of the Board”). In implementing these decisions, the Board acts on geographic names for Federal use, while other forms are recorded as variant names for reference in the Geographic Names Information System (GNIS) (ibid., “Decisions of the Board”; “Variant Names”). Because Board decisions are binding and only approved names are designated for Federal use, the approved name functions as the controlling geographic name for use in Federal maps, publications, data systems, and official records. Federal agencies implement this requirement by using the Board-approved name in official Federal products and datasets. Variant names may be documented for historical reference or cross-indexing purposes, but they do not carry official standing and do not substitute for the Board-approved name in Federal contexts.

SCIENTIFIC AND HISTORICAL CONSISTENCY

For roughly the past fifteen years, scholarly books, peer-reviewed articles, academic theses, and cultural-resource reports have consistently used the historically accurate name Rollins Pass when referring to this Continental Divide corridor. Contemporary researchers follow the federal record and the National Register listing because consistent terminology ensures clarity in citations, archival searches, GIS mapping, site-form cross-references, and longitudinal comparison of data over time. Introducing or normalizing alternative labels—such as “Corona Pass”—breaks that continuity. It fragments the research record, complicates metadata retrieval, and increases the risk that future investigators will overlook relevant studies, site files, or management decisions simply because they were indexed under the correct historic name. Scholarly standards exist for a reason: precision in naming supports accuracy in research, transparency in interpretation, and continuity in the historic record.

AGENCY INCONSISTENCY

Over time, inconsistent signage and interpretation have contributed to a split public understanding of Rollins Pass. At the western approach, brown recreational wayfinding signs on U.S. Highway 40 direct motorists toward “Corona Pass,” reflecting a tourism- and visitor-oriented convention rather than a formal geographic designation. At the summit, however, U.S. Forest Service markers consistently identify the location as Rollins Pass, in alignment with the established federal record and standardized cartographic practice. Earlier Forest Service brochures used both names interchangeably, a well-intentioned effort at accessibility that nonetheless reinforced parallel usage. Taken together, these mixed signals have fostered uncertainty that carries practical implications for mapping, safety communication, and interagency coordination—settings where consistency supports both public understanding and effective management.

“Corona Pass Road” is merely a local road designation leading toward the summit of Rollins Pass—not a recognized mountain-pass name. A roadway name may vary by jurisdiction, but the pass name is fixed in federal record. Because Rollins Pass spans Boulder, Gilpin, and Grand Counties, consistent terminology is essential for cross-jurisdictional coordination in emergencies and land management.

REAL SAFETY CONSEQUENCES: WHEN THE WARNINGS DON’T MATCH

Special Note: The Grand County Sheriff’s Office and its deputies are tireless public servants who work in some of Colorado’s most challenging conditions. The following concern isn’t about their dedication; it’s about ensuring that every public-safety message carries the same clarity that guides their work in the field.

After several fatal avalanches in Grand County, Sheriff Brett Schroetlin urged the public to “follow the advice of our avalanche professionals at CAIC”—guidance that reflects his office’s deep commitment to backcountry safety and coordination with state experts. The Sheriff’s Office and CAIC have long been partners in public safety, and aligning geographic terminology only strengthens that shared mission. That mission—saving lives—relies on clarity. Yet terminology in some local reports and press coverage often differs, referring to the same area as Corona Pass rather than Rollins Pass, which can create confusion when compared with state safety data.

This inconsistency is more than cosmetic. The Colorado Avalanche Information Center (CAIC)—the authority the Sheriff references—uses the official name Rollins Pass in all forecasts and fatality reports. The same terrain therefore appears under two names: one used locally (Corona Pass) and one used in the safety system that informs decisions in the field (Rollins Pass).

CAIC advisories for the Front Range sometimes warn that avalanches “can be triggered from a distance” and advise against travel in or below any backcountry avalanche terrain. That forecast zone includes one of Colorado’s most exposed corridors: Rollins Pass. A traveler who follows the Sheriff’s advice and searches CAIC for “Corona Pass” will find no results—the term does not exist in the state database. Recent fatal incidents are there—2021 and 2023 near Pumphouse Lake—but they are listed under Rollins Pass. Many experienced users check maps or coordinates and get the right data; the wider public, responding to signage, social media, or nightly news, searches by the name they’ve heard—Corona Pass. When public messaging and the safety database use different names for the same terrain, people doing everything right can still miss life-saving information.

Two names have created parallel geography: one where life-saving avalanche data lives and one where avalanche tragedies are recorded.

People who follow official guidance should not be misguided by an unofficial name the warning system doesn’t recognize.

CAIC, the U.S. Geological Survey, and the U.S. Board on Geographic Names use Rollins Pass because it is the only federally recognized name. Yet local references—including some media, tourism materials, and county communications—still use “Corona Pass,” unintentionally widening the gap between public messaging and safety data. The solution is not for CAIC to change; doing so would formalize an unofficial, historically incorrect name and fracture decades of consistent mapping. The remedy lies with local agencies, tourism outlets, and media partners aligning their language with the single, authoritative standard already in place—Rollins Pass.

When official warnings and public language diverge, people fall into the gap between them. No one should have to question which name to use when accuracy and safety depend on consistency. Even as forecast tools evolve, one truth remains: a warning can only save lives if people recognize the name attached to it.

Some sources add another layer of confusion by redefining where Rollins Pass supposedly begins and ends. In some accounts, “Corona Pass” is said to extend only from U.S. Highway 40 to the Riflesight Notch Trestle, with “Rollins Pass” reserved for the section above it. Others describe “Corona Pass” as the western approach and “Rollins Pass” as the eastern side—an arbitrary split that ignores both geography and history. At the summit—where incidents often occur—the contradiction deepens. While search-and-rescue teams know the terrain, the language used by the public, dispatchers, or news outlets can still cloud communication at critical moments. That kind of invented boundary might seem harmless until accuracy matters—during a fire, an avalanche, or a search-and-rescue call. It raises an obvious question: why would a single route across the Divide need more than one name for the same place?

A NOTE ON AVALANCHE EDUCATION AND NAMING PRECISION

Avalanche education emphasizes precise terrain identification, standardized terminology, and alignment with official avalanche forecasting systems. Against that backdrop, it is an internal inconsistency when avalanche education, avalanche safety, avalanche awareness, or snowmobiling courses use the name “Corona Pass,” a label that does not exist in federal geographic naming or in avalanche forecast indexing. Avalanche advisories, avalanche forecasts, incident archives, and historical hazard analyses for this area are issued under Rollins Pass. Teaching risk awareness while relying on an informal or incorrect place-name introduces avoidable ambiguity into an instructional setting where clarity is foundational, not optional. By all means, seek training and education; those efforts save lives. But effective avalanche education begins with the same precision it asks participants to apply in the field.

VARIANT NAMES AND OTHER NAMES

Within the federal geographic-names framework, variant names are not informal labels but documented historical forms that meet the U.S. Board on Geographic Names’ criteria for inclusion in the Geographic Names Information System (GNIS). For Rollins Pass, the GNIS records Boulder Pass and Rogers Pass as variant names, reflecting historically attested usage associated with the pass itself. Notably, Corona Pass is not recognized as a GNIS variant for Rollins Pass. Its absence from the variant list is significant: GNIS variant status is not granted casually, and names that lack sufficient documentary linkage to the feature in question are excluded. As a result, while Boulder Pass and Rogers Pass are preserved in GNIS as historical reference forms, Corona Pass does not meet the threshold for recognition as a variant name of Rollins Pass within the federal system.

Over the past 150 years, Rollins Pass has occasionally been called South Boulder Pass, and—more rarely—Rollinsville Pass, Dart (or Dartt) Pass, and Moffat Pass. These are historical curiosities, not recognized names.

PUBLIC IMPACT AND WHY GETTING THE NAME RIGHT MATTERS

Confusion over the name of Rollins Pass isn’t confined to weather advisories or maps—it affects how the public understands, visits, and advocates for this historic corridor. When the same landscape is referred to by two names, both data integrity and cultural stewardship suffer. (The U.S. Board on Geographic Names recognizes “Rollins Pass,” not “Corona Pass.”)

Physically, Rollins Pass and Corona Pass trace the same mountain corridor, but how each name is used defines how the landscape is understood and protected. Rollins Pass appears on federal maps, National Register listings, and state inventories as a continuous historic transportation route that links the eastern and western slopes of the Continental Divide. Corona Pass, by contrast, is a railroad-era nickname that today is often applied only to the western approach near the former station site of Corona. That narrowing of scope turns a sweeping and expansive ~30-mile historic district into a short recreational drive. When project files, maps, or online resources use “Corona Pass,” they unintentionally erase the eastern segments, wagon-road traces, and archaeological features that give the corridor its national (and international) significance. In the language of preservation, the name doesn’t just label the road, it decides how much of its incredible and timeless story is remembered.

Even when travelers reach the same ridgeline, the name they use changes what they believe they’ve found. “Corona Pass” suggests a playground—snowmobiles, Jeeps, and scenic overlooks. “Rollins Pass” signals history—wagon ruts, wooden trestles, and the legacy of early Colorado engineering. Those two perceptions drive very different behavior. When recreation apps, guidebooks, or agencies emphasize “Corona,” visitors often treat the corridor as an unregulated backcountry route rather than a nationally listed historic district. That subtle linguistic shift weakens stewardship: historic features are overlooked, damage is unreported, and public support for preservation funding declines. Calling it Rollins Pass reminds everyone—from hikers to policymakers—that they are traveling through history, not merely across terrain.

Names shape memory, guide safety, and define preservation outcomes. For cultural integrity, legal clarity, and public safety, the correct and official name is Rollins Pass. Inconsistent naming can also complicate Section 106 and NEPA compliance when project areas, comment records, or cultural-resource inventories reference different terms for the same landscape, requiring additional cross-verification by reviewers.

When government agencies, utility companies, or other organizations plan work that could affect historic places, they’re required by law to follow a federal review process called Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act. This process ensures that federally funded, licensed, or permitted projects—whether road improvements, utility work, or infrastructure upgrades—don’t unintentionally damage or erase pieces of our shared history.

Section 106 functions effectively only if the places it protects are named and identified correctly. Every map, report, and public notice must align with the official record. If a document calls this area Corona Pass—a railroad-era nickname—but the federally recognized name is Rollins Pass, the protection meant for this landscape can be delayed or obscured before it begins.

That one word difference matters because:

• Protection depends on precision. Section 106 reviews draw from official databases, maps, and historic designations to identify what lies in a project’s path. These systems match names, boundaries, and resource numbers exactly—they do not infer or interpolate. If documentation refers to a site under the wrong name, the property may not appear in the initial query, forcing reviewers to rely on local knowledge or cross-checks to make the connection. A mismatch—such as labeling the area “Corona Pass” instead of Rollins Pass—can delay recognition of a nationally significant transportation corridor and complicate compliance before the error is caught.
• Safety depends on clarity. In the mountains, seconds matter and confusion delays. Search-and-Rescue teams, avalanche forecasters, and fire crews rely on official geographic names to coordinate their response. These names feed directly into dispatch software, GPS systems, and flight plans. If a distress call comes in from “Corona Pass,” but every operational map lists Rollins Pass, responders must stop to confirm—is it the same place, which side, whose jurisdiction? That hesitation burns minutes, and minutes in thin air can cost lives. Although responders can cross-reference coordinates, name confusion still costs precious time when clarity matters most. Using the correct name—Rollins Pass—eliminates that uncertainty and keeps rescuers, pilots, and victims on the same page when it matters most.
• Public voices depend on consistency. Section 106 gives the public its clearest guaranteed seat at the table when historic places are at risk. But that seat disappears the moment people don’t recognize what’s being discussed. If one agency calls it Rollins Pass and another calls it Corona Pass, citizens who care most about this landscape may never realize their mountain—the one they hike, photograph, or fight to preserve—is the same one buried in the fine print of a “Corona Pass” project notice. And when that recognition fails, so does representation. The opportunity to speak up, to defend the record, to ask for mitigation—all of it vanishes quietly in a tangle of mismatched names. Without consistency, Section 106 becomes a process carried out on paper instead of in public, and decisions about heritage happen without the very people it was designed to protect.
• Respect is shown through accuracy. Corona is indeed part of the story—it was the name of a high-altitude railroad station on the Continental Divide—but the pass itself has been documented as Rollins Pass since the 1860s and formally recognized by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names in 1904, later listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980. Preserving that distinction doesn’t erase history; it ensures accuracy.
• Names matter. Decades of research in behavioral science and linguistics show that the words we choose do not merely describe reality—they prime people to interpret and behave within it. Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky’s work on framing effects demonstrates that when identical facts are presented under different labels, human decision-making predictably shifts. George Lakoff’s scholarship on metaphor and cognition shows that language quietly structures what people believe a place is for: a “playground” invites use, while a “heritage corridor” implies care. Environmental-psychology research extends this into landscape management, finding that names, signs, and interpretive cues influence risk-taking, rule-compliance, and whether visitors perceive features as fragile or durable. If naming did not matter, public agencies would not invest in official naming policies, interpretive branding, and designation language, nor would Congress distinguish—explicitly—between wilderness, national monument, and national recreation area if those terms had no behavioral effect. Within that context, the distinction here is not semantic preference. Rollins Pass is the historically documented and federally recognized name of the Continental Divide corridor. “Corona” originated as the name of the summit railroad station during the Moffat Road era and later became a recreational shorthand. While individual behavior varies, research demonstrates that naming and framing influence visitor expectations. Describing the corridor as “Corona Pass” aligns with a recreational frame; describing it as “Rollins Pass” aligns with a heritage-stewardship frame. Those differing expectations affect how many visitors understand their responsibilities toward the historic fabric of the site. The geography does not change—but the name alters the mental model visitors bring with them, and that mental model reliably shapes what they do next. Expectations drive behavior, and behavior drives preservation outcomes. Consistent use of the historically accurate name is therefore not cosmetic—it is a low-cost, high-impact risk-management tool that supports stewardship, compliance, and public education.

Acknowledging Corona within its proper context—as a single chapter within the larger Rollins Pass narrative—is the respectful way to tell the full story without confusing the legal or geographic record. Getting the name right helps ensure that the laws designed to protect historic places function as intended, that rescue crews and visitors stay safe, and that the story of this mountain corridor remains truthful, layered, and complete.

FAA RECOGNITION OF ROLLINS PASS AS THE CHARTED NAME

Rollins Pass, not Corona Pass, is the name recognized and listed on official FAA sectional and aeronautical charts. It appears as Rollins Pass (VPROL)—the designated visual reporting point used by pilots crossing the Continental Divide between Boulder and Grand Counties. Rollins Pass also holds a distinguished place in aviation history: it was once the site of Airway Beacon 82, the highest rotating airway beacon in North America, positioned at more than 12,000 feet before its decommissioning.

This distinction matters. “Rollins Pass” is the federally accepted geographic name under the U.S. Board on Geographic Names (BGN), which governs how it appears on aviation charts, GPS databases, and all other federal mapping systems. Although “Corona Pass” remains a local nickname referencing the former rail station and summit area, it carries no standing in aeronautical navigation.

For aviators, Rollins Pass (VPROL) is the sole charted and navigationally valid identifier—ensuring precision, consistency, and safety across FAA data, sectional charts, and national airspace references. The continued use of the official name also preserves the historical lineage of the pass within the nation’s aviation framework, maintaining continuity between federal records, cartographic standards, and field navigation.

ROLLINS PASS IN CONTEXT: DUAL NAMING ELSEWHERE

Colorado offers smaller examples—such as Mount Evans and Mount Blue Sky—where inconsistent terminology created interpretive and administrative friction until the U.S. Board on Geographic Names resolved the issue. The difference at Rollins Pass is that the decision was made long ago: Rollins Pass is already the official standard. Today’s inconsistency stems from local usage that has drifted away from the established standard and allowed confusion to take root.

KEY TAKEAWAY: ROLLINS PASS NOT CORONA PASS

Only one official name—Rollins Pass—is recognized across all authoritative sources, including the U.S. Geological Survey, the Board on Geographic Names, the Geographic Names Information System, the Colorado Avalanche Information Center, and the National Register of Historic Places. “Corona Pass” appears only in tourism material, inconsistent signage, and media shorthand. Dual naming creates a kind of parallel geography that undermines safety communication, preservation clarity, and historical accuracy. Using the correct name honors both those who built this route and those who have lost their lives upon it.

The primary purpose of our work is to inform the public.

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