Cole Clifford Mooney

Cole Clifford Mooney, a son of the Wasatch Front and a friend to everyone lucky enough to share a field, trail, or river with him, passed from this life on May 30, 2025. A lifelong resident of Utah, Cole felt most at home under an open sky—whether he was tying down a kayak for the next run, knocking snow from his boots after a day on his mountain, or coaxing campfire embers back to life so friends could swap "one more" story.

As a kid, Cole loved scrambling up the granite of American Fork Canyon and riding backseat on countless family adventures. That restless energy never faded: in early adulthood, he logged bucket-list-worthy whitewater tours and made the grueling switch from snowboard to skis. Friends describe him as, "the guy who wouldn't give up until he got it right—yet somehow always had an extra hour for you, no matter how full his pack already was."

True to form, Cole figured if he had to punch a time clock, it might as well be outside. Summers he worked for Orange Torpedo Trips, guiding rafts on the Main Salmon River—a job he called "getting paid to babysit adults in the sunshine." Winters, he worked for the nearest resort with lift-pass benefits.

Cole was a fierce friend with a gentle soul—the guy who always knew when you needed a nudge or a net. He coached kids through their first river trips, stopped to change flat tires for total strangers, and somehow just knew when you needed a hug. In quiet moments he played guitar, pencil sketched mountain ridgelines, and journaled about the future.

Cole is survived by a large, devoted family, his River Rats and fireside-best-friends, and by the landscapes that shaped him. The Mooney family will share details for a public celebration of life at a later date. In lieu of flowers, friends are invited to spend an hour outside on their favorite trail and to tag photos with #MilesForMooney so his loved ones can see the places he's still inspiring people to explore.

Though his miles were far too few, Cole ran them well. He left every switchback brighter than he found it. May we honor him by lacing up, stepping out, and keeping an eye on the friend behind us—the one who might need a steady hand.