It is with the broken hearts and deep gratitude to his life that we share the death of Coal Clifford Money, who left the world on 30 May, 2025. A proud son of the Washech Front was 29 years old when he passed.
He lived with each one of the years with extraordinary feelings, fierce loyalty, and a love for wild places, which went deep into compared to any river. Cole was born and raised in Utah, where mountains, valley and rivers served not only as their playground but also as their compas.
From an early age, he was attracted outward with an unquenchable curiosity and energy that could hardly contain. He spent childhood weekends at Granite Boulder at the American Fork Canyon and riding backseat through another family adventure.
That spark for exploration will only be strong with time. Kol’s friends and loved ones described him as a person who felt everything more vibrant.
He had a patience that showed if he was navigating technical rapids on a kayak trip or learning to ski after years on a snowboard, until he mastered something, and still did not always find time for others.
“Cole doesn’t give up until she is right,” a friend recalled, “but somehow she always had time to lend a hand, patches a fleet, or laugh when you needed the most.”
For his courageous soul, Cole shaped his working life around the great outdoor. Summers found him on the main salmon river in Idaho, acting as a guide with the Orange Torpedo Trip.
He once jokingly said that he was “paying the right adults in the sun,” but all those who were paddled with Cole knew how seriously he had taken the safety and joy of others. He had a way to calm the veins, awaken courage and make the river journey unforgettable.
When the winter came, Cole chased the snow. He took a seasonal job in local ski resorts – any job that came with a lift pass – and spent his closed hours to travel fresh tracks and hiking. He did not just love snow; He respected it, understood it, and never took a single turn.
Away from whitewater and mountain run, the quiet moments of coal were equally meaningful. He sketched the climber in the pencil, tied his heart on his guitar, and journalists about his dreams for the future. He was the kind of person who could anchor a group around a camp fire and walk in silence next to you, offering the appearance without any pressure.
Cole was a stable in so many lives: a stable hand in a fleet, a warm throat when the words were not enough, and a tireless companion always said yes to adventure. He coached children through his first river trips, stopped to help the trapped motorists, and was a supernatural way to show at the right time.
He is alive by his elder and loving family, by his “River Rats” crew, and by many friends, who called him a brother in the soul. He also lives in wild places that he loved the most running rivers, icy peaks and sunshine camps in the American West.
The Muni family will share the details of a public celebration of Kol’s life in the coming weeks. Meanwhile, those who knew them are invited to honor their heritage to spend time outside, someone is offered a needy hand, or simply the sun is seen on a cool footpath as if Cole had often done.
Relax, coal. Makes you current.