Tribute to Lloyd Gust, Trail Angel
Unfortunately, I didn’t get a photo of Lloyd when I hiked the PCT. My memories of him live with the friendships that his kindness enabled.
Today, the Pacific Crest Trail Association announced that Trail Angel Lloyd Gust has gone into hospice care and is in the final weeks of life. I wanted to write him this tribute and will mail it to him later today. The PCTA says that he’d really appreciate a note. You can send him mail at: Lloyd Gust, 611 NE Bellevue Drive, #204, Bend, OR 97701
Lloyd Gust’s signs at every PCT road crossing—minor dirt road or major highway—were almost unreal. “Man, this guy must be making a lot of money off shuttling hikers.” “He’s got a great advertising team.” “How can he possibly cover 300 miles of trail? He must be charging hikers an arm and a leg.”
Who was this guy with a fairy tale name who advertised that he helps “NOBOs, SOBOs, Flip-Flops, and Yoyos” (Really? Yoyos??? Only Scott and Eric D. had/have managed that and he’s advertising that he’s helping Yoyos???)? We definitely thought he was running a shuttling business and were determined to save our cash and keep one foot in front of the other.
This wasn’t actually the storm that brought on the near hypothermia in the story, but it *was* a cold day in Oregon. You get the idea.
That is, until weather rolled in less than a day out of Shelter Cove. Perfect hypothermia conditions set in and as a young, still relatively inexperienced hiker, I didn’t want to stop for food breaks because I was so cold—a vicious cycle down-spiraling to hypothermia. I pulled over by the side of the trail, no longer able to think straight. Finally, I had the sense to eat something and gained the physical and mental strength to keep going. That night, I poorly set up my shelter in the rain—my first on the trail—not really remembering how to get the poles up well on the poncho-tarp, which almost 2000 miles into the PCT, had only been set up a handful of times.
The next morning, it kept raining and I refused to leave my drenched down sleeping bag until 10 am, when nature called me out of my shelter and I figured I might as well just walk. I had been staring at my guidebook all morning trying to figure out a way to dry off and warm up and realized Elk Lake was an easy upcoming exit point. I could call Lloyd Gust and he could take me to Bend where there were gear stores full of warm layers. In my mind, Bend was a town of famed outdoor awesomeness that I had wanted to see for years, but figured I’d never make it there during my PCT hike since it was far from the trail. In my shivering state, I didn’t care how much Lloyd Gust charged. I was going to warm up and he was going to take me to a new outdoor mecca I had long desired to see.
Miss Info hiking in Oregon
Along the way, I met a man wearing a skirt named Pi (“a rain skirt” he corrected—a piece of gear I now never leave home without) and Miss Info, hikers I had seen before, but hadn’t really talked to. They were also cold and wet and happy to join the plan.
Lloyd Gust showed up in his car, a bang on the side with a sticker that read “A deer.” He explained, “Oh, I hit a deer driving at night on the way to pick up some hikers.” He immediately handed us sodas from a cooler. We knew this was going to be an awesome trip.
He had already found us a hotel in Bend, and proceeded to tell us a story I’ll never forget—when a PCT equestrian called him after midnight telling him her mule had fallen off the trail and couldn’t get out. He told her matter-of-factly: “Look at the clock. It’s 1 AM.” Pause. “I’ll have a veterinarian and a trailer at the closest trailhead at 6 AM.”
Lloyd could pick up hikers from roads that were closed, passes that were under construction, and gated paths the cops had blocked off. All rules and everyone stepped aside for him on his quest to help hikers. I wondered how he managed it, imagining that he used to be a governor or senator who could always get his way. He ran trail angeling like a COO. He knew the right people. He could fix any problem. Like Mary Poppins, he could make extraordinary things happen and act like it was not a big deal.
For all his trouble, Lloyd Gust didn’t ask a dollar of us, and when we insisted, he said he donates every penny to the PCTA. His love of the trail was unfaltering and his trail angeling was another way of channeling his love to others.
Pi and Miss Info High-Five at breakfast
After Lloyd dropped us off in Bend, Pi and Miss Info and I had a great time in the city. Until then, I was an anti-social hiker and this was one of my first forays into having hikertrash friends in more than 4,000 miles of hiking.
Pi and I went to the Deschutes Brewery where a clean-looking patron came up to us excitedly to ask if we were hiking the PCT. Then, he recognized me: “You hiked the AT in 2008!” He introduced himself as Circus, an AT and PCT veteran, now on vacation with his girlfriend, who stared at us wide-eyed, wondering why her partner was talking with homeless people.
Circus was the first hiker I saw who was off-trail, but clearly still part of the tribe. As we chatted with him, I realized that the thru-hiker identity doesn’t go away just because you’ve stopped hiking. The community stays connected on and off trail.
Miss Info, Pi, Silverfox, Dryfoot, SF, and I attempt a 54 mile day into Timberline Lodge.
Llyod helped us again to get to Sisters, OR. By now, I had hiked for a few weeks with Pi and Miss Info and for the first time, felt like I had trail friends. Three years later, when I moved to Denver, I learned that Pi lived 20 minutes away from me. Now, we hang out when I’m not on trail and he even came out to visit when I hiked the Colorado Trail.
Lloyd and that storm got me out of my anti-social shell and introduced me to the idea of a broader hiker community. His drive across half of Oregon to save a few wet, stinky hikers who would never have been able to hitch into Bend was a remarkable act of generosity. But it is the friendships he enabled through his infectious love of the trail that are his real legacy. Lloyd knows that trail angeling is more than just a ride. His kind acts exemplified the power of the trail to remind and return us to our shared humanity. I am enormously grateful for his compassion for those in need. Thank you, Lloyd. Cheers to a life well-lived.
