It is with broken hearts and deep gratitude for his life that we share the passing of Cole Clifford Mooney, who left this world on May 30, 2025. A proud son of the Wasatch Front, Cole was 29 years old when he passed.
He lived every one of those years with extraordinary spirit, fierce loyalty, and a love for wild places that ran deeper than any river he ever paddled. Cole was born and raised in Utah, where the mountains, canyons, and rivers served not only as his playground but as his compass.
From a young age, he was drawn to the outdoors with an insatiable curiosity and energy that could hardly be contained. He spent childhood weekends scrambling across granite boulders in American Fork Canyon and summer evenings riding backseat through one more family adventure.
That spark for exploration would only grow stronger with time. Cole’s friends and loved ones describe him as the kind of person who made everything feel more vibrant.
He had a grit that showed up whether he was navigating technical rapids on a kayak trip or learning to ski after years on a snowboard—never satisfied until he mastered something, and yet always finding time for others along the way.
“Cole wouldn’t give up until he got it right,” a friend recalled, “but somehow he always had time to lend a hand, patch a raft, or make you laugh when you needed it most.”
True to his adventurous soul, Cole shaped his working life around the great outdoors. Summers found him on the Main Salmon River in Idaho, working as a guide with Orange Torpedo Trips.
He once joked that he was “getting paid to babysit adults in the sunshine,” but everyone who paddled with Cole knew how seriously he took the safety and joy of others. He had a way of calming nerves, sparking courage, and making a river trip unforgettable.
When winter came, Cole followed the snow. He took seasonal work at local ski resorts—any job that came with a lift pass—and spent his off hours carving fresh tracks and hiking ridgelines. He didn’t just love the snow; he respected it, understood it, and never took a single turn for granted.
Away from the whitewater and mountain runs, Cole’s quieter moments were just as meaningful. He sketched mountaintops in pencil, strummed heartfelt melodies on his guitar, and journaled about his dreams for the future. He was the kind of person who could both anchor a group around a campfire and walk in silence beside you for miles, offering presence without pressure.
Cole was a constant in so many lives: a steady hand in a raft, a warm hug when words weren’t enough, and a tireless companion who always said yes to adventure. He coached kids through their first river trips, stopped to help stranded motorists, and had an uncanny way of showing up at exactly the right moment.
He is survived by his large and loving family, by his “River Rats” crew, and by the many friends who called him a brother in spirit. He also lives on in the wild places he loved most—the rushing rivers, snowy peaks, and sun-drenched campsites of the American West.
The Mooney family will share details of a public celebration of Cole’s life in the coming weeks. In the meantime, those who knew him are invited to honor his legacy by spending time outdoors, offering a hand to someone in need, or simply watching the sun rise over a quiet trail—just as Cole so often did.
Rest easy, Cole. Your current carries on.
