"So you'll be leading then?"
"You're the one with the gear."

Oh yeah, it's your rope I thought, but mumbled OK. I couldn't back down, or admit I'd only seconded two climbs before. I tie on, take a look at the steepness above, rub the hands, and make the first few easy moves. Heart thumps, mouth seems dry, keep looking ahead for something comforting to pull on. This is it then. I'm leading.

Small holds keep coming, a reach here, a higher step there. I must have been climbing for less than a minute when I felt a heavy shadow, a space behind and below. I sneak a glance over my shoulder. Shit. How did I get so high so quick? I could fall. The thought forced my whole body inwards towards the rock. My nose sought refuge in a crack, and the smell of damp limestone reminded me of something explosive – old fireworks? Couldn't be. Stop wandering, brain. You're 30 feet up and hugging rock, gravity's working overtime, so get a grip. Where now? A puzzle lies between me and tree safety. A silent, urgent call for pro materialises from within. Fumble around my waist, feel a crab, unclip it, don't be clumsy now, bring it into view – bugger – wrong one – replay – got it this time – relief oozes out on its own accord. Accord? Ha. No pun intended. Oi! Concentrate you pillock. I fondle that lovely nugget of engineering. It just has to go in there. No time to prat about, feet are glued on small edges, fingers uncurling. Aaah, perfect. Nests in a tailor-made slot. Clip rope.

Must have been holding my breath – a huge exhale marks a milestone. Now I have the gear in, I am surely invincible. Nothing can touch me now. I am PROTECTED. Next, an inelegant flail, a mystery move, a lurch to the tree, thank it with a passionate embrace. Sling – safe as houses – take in, act casual and competent, you can come up now, yes I found that tricky too – he takes his time, arrives at last. Want to lead through? No. Right. Give me the nut then. I start the second pitch. How will I be? Blank out the scary episode, put in more gear, and I'll be fine. Still, the top looks steep and that airy spacey thing is pulling at my back again. More dampness, foot slips, stomach sinks, saliva's on strike, cat's got my tongue, making love to the crack but it's pushing me away, outwards, doesn't want me. I relax, allow some space between my legs, hey – exposure's good! Pull up on big holds to the top.

Unexpectedly, I find I am lighter, taller, stronger, and - safe. An ego-warrior, now replete. Lynx, Wildcat Tor, 1969. First lead. Up there with other firsts you never forget – first day at school, first sexual experience, first love, first job, first born, first grandchild. Each a step into the unknown. But these days every lead feels the same.......

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Write approximately 500 words about your first outdoor lead and supply an image of you climbing (not necessarily your first lead) and submit to: http://www.ukclimbing.com/articles/send.html

The competition will be judged by us here at DMM and the winner announced on Monday 24th December and will win a complete DMM rack worth £500.

But more than that, everyone who submits an essay will receive a spot prize.

More details HERE