Growing up, my home crag was a nearby quarry. I need not describe it as a “chossy” quarry because quarries are inherently chossy—probably something to do with all the dynamite… I digress.
The crag wasn’t anything special, but it was close enough that we all climbed there. There was a handful of good routes (some may call them “crag classics”), plenty of mediocre ones, and tucked away in the corner was the most unappealing, uninspiring, and un-repeated pile of garbage, cleverly disguised as a route—complete with a few questionable carrot bolts to really sell it. Not un-repeated due to difficulty, but due to the fact that nobody wanted to climb it. To everyone else, that route was probably a waste of metal, but I'm sure to somebody it was their…