Climbs

La Pedriza

References

[1] https://www.ukclimbing.com/articles/features/moonraker-133

Gordon Stainforth:

I was there when Johnny Dawes, Paul Pritchard and Ben Moon first did it in 1979 (I think it was) [sic. actually 1989]. The midges and mosquitos at the time were absolutely appalling, and we were all using an extremely potent Chinese repellent called ‘Moskil’. After they’d done the route we were all trying to think of a name, and I said the whole crag was a bit like Scafell Crag tipped outwards, and that the route they’d done was like an overhanging Moss Ghyll Grooves. And then I said, ‘Oh my god - Moskil Grooves!!' [1]

References

[1] https://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/ukc/why_did_you_call_it_that-788280?v=1#x10121665

A linkup of Move in to the second crux of Silence. When Adam established the line Silence was unclimbed and was provisionally called Project Hard, thus the name Move Hard.

6th big wall route on El Capitan and the first to be established in one push from the ground by a 2 man team. Named after John Muir, Scottish-American naturalist, environmental activist and co-founder of the Sierra Club.

Two free versions, preMuir and The Shaft, both have some variations from the original aid line.

First clean ascent: Steve Grossman (1990)

References

[1] https://publications.americanalpineclub.org/articles/12196604600/Muir-WallEl-Capitan

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Muir

[3] https://www.mountainproject.com/route/105924815/muir-wall

Gran Canaria

First ascensionist Toshimichi Kusano:

After 'Kani', I already knew what I wanted to try next. The line started on Ninja Gaeshi, then reached out toward a seductive lip hold that seemed to beckon climbers closer — this would become Mushi (“Bug”). It was a legendary line, said to have been spotted and attempted by the British superstar Jerry Moffatt when he visited Japan in 1984. And yet no one had seriously tried it since.

It wasn’t hard to see why. The first left-hand vertical hold is slick and tiny — enough to make most people give up right there. Still, I kept going. After that hold, I’d try lunging across from a left-hand crimp in a kind of cross move. No good. It didn’t feel possible.

But I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe one day it would be. I started visiting Mitake more often. And really, at that point, that stunning and mysterious line felt like it belonged to me alone. There was no reason not to try.

Then winter — the season when holds stay dry — came to an end. As always, spring brought a mix of urgency and doubt. Around then, I went to Mitake with Takahashi, a tall friend. We were trying to work the upper section, and he pushed me from below so I could stick to the wall. There was this tiny dimple I’d always noticed from the ground — I finally touched it. “This could work.”

He pushed me up again, and this time I grabbed that dimple with my right hand and started the sequence. I launched my left hand for the lip — and stuck it. “It goes!”

I can’t even remember if I went back for one more session or not, but now that I’d found the move, I was so excited to try again.

It was a crisp, sunny day in May 1996. I felt good. I began my usual quiet warm-up. Every move on Mushi was big, but it wasn’t cold, so my body moved well. I matched my right hand to that little dimple. I still had strength. I popped to the lip. My hand stuck. From here, it was unknown territory. But the holds were clear, my body moved naturally — and I climbed it. I stood on top of the boulder.

In Japanese, when someone is obsessed with something, we call them a bug for it — like a “climbing bug.” I wanted climbers to become bugs for climbing, and of course, to move across the rock like insects, freely and playfully. That’s why I named the line Mushi.

References

[1] Mitake Bouldering Guide