Seven Shots with Angus Young

Editor’s Note: In this ongoing series, photographer Ryan Le Garrec explores storytelling through images in an unconventional way, a sort of “behind the lens” of what happened before or after each of seven shots.

Introducing the project, Ryan said, “Sometimes, the best pictures have no story left to tell, while some missed shots have many more background anecdotes to share! Expect shots that might be blurry, poorly framed, overexposed, or plain taken with the wrong settings. I think all the magical accidents along the way are what fascinate me the most in any creative endeavour. Maybe I just don’t have great self-esteem, but I find my best work comes from accepting these accidental results as being better than anything I was trying hard to make intentionally!” We hope you enjoy this third installment. —Lucas Winzenburg

Words and photos by Ryan Le Garrec

In 2022, Angus Young set the fastest known time on the new European Divide Trail (EDT). It took him just 32 days to cover the grueling 7,500-kilometer route. Three filmmakers were invited along the way to collect some footage for a 20-minute video about Angus and his effort directed by Maciej Tomiczek, which is how I first came to know him.

Shot One

Saucisson and toothpaste

We’d never met before. This is my very first shot of Angus Young. We talked a while ago—about a year before his attempt at the European Divide Trail FKT. He knew he’d be passing not too far away from me at the southern end of his trip, so he was keen to have me around to contribute to something. That something became Maciej’s video, which I contributed to, and Angus asked if I could shoot a few stills, too.

When Angus crossed the border to Spain, I was on my bike further up north, riding to collect landscape videos of burnt-out forests for the scenography of a theatre piece in Amsterdam by old friend Wim Wandekeybus and in collaboration with his son Fernando. I was dot-watching Angus every day and very eager to dash south and cross paths to then parallel and shadow him on his way to Sagres, Portugal, which is the very end of the EDT.

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We meet in Aracena, Andalusia. Angus seems both disoriented and singularly focused. From here, it would take him about 3-4 days to complete the FKT. Muttering to himself some words I can’t understand, he shuffles through his bags to pull out a toothbrush, then a sausage, and finally some toothpaste, not really sure what his first emergency would be. “I’ve been carrying this one since France.” He says while munching through the dry sausage.

Shot Two

The shadow

I’ve been following Angus since yesterday now; my route is shorter, tarmac, and parallel to his; we meet here and there, and I gather what I can. On his trip, just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong already, and there is a sort of relief in his attitude. He knows he’s close, closer than ever, a bit more every hour, and if he manages to keep it all together for just a little bit more, he can see the endgame. It’s there right in front of him, a few hundred kilometers. The light at the end of the tunnel will be the westernmost lighthouse of Europe, and it is just about to pop out of the horizon in a few dozen hours!

We talk about the ups and downs of such a long endeavor and enumerate all the mechanical issues: a broken handlebar, a broken wheel, a lost phone, a failing front brake (and then a failing rear brake), a broken man, too, on many occasions. “Just about every part of my body, at some point, was painful for a while,” he says.

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I have been touring for about 10 days already and must have started getting fitter along the way, as I’m surprised I can actually follow Angus, even if he has 6,000 kilometers more in his legs. Then comes a hill at the border with Portugal, and I quickly realize how unfit I am compared to him. He’s spinning up, and I am grinding. I am relieved I have to make a left turn to escape and take a shortcut to our next rendezvous point at the gas station!

Shot Three

Young’s charm

The charm of Angus is a two-gear sorta engine. At first, he can come across rather quirky, quiet, shy, and  maybe even slightly awkward. He is, after all, a Chemistry teacher. “Ha, no I’m not a nerd; the reason I teach chemistry is that it’s way easier to get students’ attention when you tell them you’re about to blow things up in the classroom, right!?”

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Maybe it’s me, but in my experience, no one has ever been cooler than a nerd or a geek. Angus is definitely cool in a welcoming and unchallenging way. He seems to be himself only cause he can’t be anything else and he doesn’t seem to take any responsibility for that matter. His code is logic—his logic—and it works. I can imagine that many people have passed by Angus without ever truly getting to know him. It takes two to tango, and Angus may not make the first step.

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This shot and the way Angus looks at the camera—or rather, looks at me—really defines the portrait for me. There is the adventurer with the scruffy beard and honest, depleted tiredness. There is a questioning and curious way to look at things and people. He’s exhausted yet very much awake, alive, and curious.

I really like that look. It reminds me of how we just met and how it could have been far more challenging than it was. We just rode for a few hours together,  and that was about all that was needed to be relaxed and at ease with each other.

Shot Four

All you can eat

Angus is refueling and packing up for the whole night. “I eat one of these per hour at least,” he says while pointing at the Haribo bags. His methodology at the shop is perfect; he’s counting hours of riding and grams of sugar and then adding salty crisps and drinks on top of everything. “I avoid caffeine drinks cause they wake you up but then you crash even more after.” You can feel he’s been at it for quite a while now.

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He packs his frame bag in a way that looks like it is about to explode. “Well, it will only be that full for a short while!” That afternoon, he had decided he would go through the night as it was the last one. But there was so much hike-a-bike coming that he hadn’t foreseen. Angus ended up sleeping on the track for a brief moment at some point. He just lay down on the ground, not even taking his helmet off, and he slept there a few minutes.

Shot Five

The Endgame

These are the very last miles, a smooth track almost all the way downhill to the lighthouse. A quiet wind pushes us gently toward the southwestern tip of Portugal and Europe. The track, however, has some nasty surprises toward the end. Parallel to the main road, it goes into a symphony of tiny turns and hike a bike sections, overlooking the cliffs. From where I stand and film Angus, I can see tourists wondering why the hell this guy carries his bike on a track only 50 meters away from the straight and flat road. I can’t help thinking Andy Cox is a monster to put such a hassle so close to the end!

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“Slow is fast has been my motto on this whole trip,” he tells me. Slow is a bit exaggerated. He isn’t really slow, but I guess he usually rides faster. There is no frenetic joy in Angus’s behavior; he looks very much like he is just finishing the job. He’s a man on a mission—a mission about to end and leave a huge void.

Shot Six

The rough stuff

How could anyone have any idea where Angus’s mind is going now? As I am looking at him finished and done, I feel the guy I met few days ago is suddenly gone. Drifting in the lack of motion, giving him a massive hangover, a sudden vertigo. When on a mission, Angus was different. He was lively and determined and had a sort of constant sparkle in the eyes. Now, it looks like his spirit has left his body.

“I don’t really know what to do now….”

We have arrived at the end: the crowded tourist site of Cabo de Sao Vincente. Germans, Brits, Dutch, and other tourists walk around with no clear aim other than a selfie souvenir and an overpriced sandwich; the irony and anti-climax are brutal. I think to myself the ending point should be a few kilometers away from this nonsense, a quiet drop off the cliff with only seagulls and the distant noise of waves crashing one after the other would suit the moment infinitely better—a meditative pause at the end of the way, the end of the world, the rhythm of the surf a reminder of each pedal stroke to cross a continent.

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Angus falls asleep sitting in front of his celebratory morning beer. When he wakes up, he looks at me and doesn’t dare ask, but I get it and book him a car. It’s over. I can be of help now. I put him in a taxi van and get back on my bike. “We’ll meet later, go rest, and shower. Maybe not in that order if you are going to a hostel!”

Shot Seven

All you can eat (again)

When the waiter comes to take the order, I let Angus do the talking. He enunciates about every item on the menu, or close enough, like a kid in a candy store with too much money in his pockets. Once the order is complete, the waiter looks at me and asks, “You waiting for other people?”

I laugh. “No, he’s just really hungry! I’ll have whatever he can’t eat, but keep an eye on our table. It might need a few more things in no time!”

Bonus: Shots Eight and Nine

Morocco, two years later…

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Sometime later, I meet Angus amid the Atlas Mountain Race in Morocco. He’s with Meghan, and they ride as a pair. This is the gift they gave to each other for their engagement party. I can’t stop laughing at the idea; what a brilliant test before marriage! The pair finishes their race a day or two later. They had one set of earphones and shared it all the way. He tells me, “If I lose the music or it starts cutting off, I know it means I am dropping her, so we stay together this way!”

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