Over the summer, I'd gotten into canyoning a bit, in Scotland and in Austria, so when I found Eagle falls, with an absolutely huge waterfall at the top, apparently broken in one or two places by pools and chockstones, the decision seemed natural.

My brother John and I made plans and headed up to the top of the gorge in wetsuits, with two ropes, a little climbing protection just in case and plenty of courage. Unfortunately it was raining, but we were going to be wet anyway, so what did that matter?

First abseil was just wonderful – we looped the rope around a log jam and I dropped 20m beside this thundering waterfall down into the first pool. There was a perfect log jam for the second descent, so I called John down after me, just in awe at the pure verticality of the situation. Then all we had to do was pull the ropes through and on down to the bottom. But it was not to be. After pulling through several metres of rope, it got stuck.

Disaster.

Fortunately, we had a plan B – except it turns out that prusiking up a rope under a waterfall, up to your neck in water and with the flow constantly growing, is nigh on impossible. But fortunately we had no plan C.

“I'm sorry John, I can't get up that rope.”

John is always very matter-of-fact in high pressure situations, and without a hint of blame:

“So, our options are: we spend the night here, Andrew or Mum will raise the alarm when they've heard nothing from us by tonight, and probably we'll be found by tomorrow at lunchtime.”

We were at 500m, on a chockstone in a gorge, it was September and it was raining.

“...or, we can try and climb out of here, and it looks as though that might go.”

He pointed to a wet, sloping ledge above a veritable abyss of waterfall and sheer rock, dropping 40+ metres.

“I agree it might go, and I'm definitely keen not to spend the night here,” was my contribution, shouted over the deafening roar of the water, “but I've never lead rock before, so do you mind leading it?”

“I could, but I get married in four weeks; we're not taking any risks out here. We might get killed or break legs and that wouldn't be fair on Niki.”

He had a point, so we had a quick prayer together, and after it became clear what we had to do, I felt a supernatural sense of calm wash over me, and the drop below me became as nothing.

With as much of the rope pulled through as we could get, and John belaying from the rope jam via the rock, I took all the gear we had and went for it. Small piece of protection in above the ledge, over which rainwater was pouring, gave me all I could get for the mantle. Grabbing at clumps of heather and a deep crack, I mantled up onto the flake before jamming a hex in behind it. Standing on that flake was awkward, not only for the reduced mobility which the wetsuit afforded me, but also because the rock above hung over it, meaning I had to lean my torso over the drop, whilst holding on to the rock above before being able to get my foot in a perfectly placed notch to the left. After that, a bit more scrabbling on wet heather and grass led me to another flake, behind which I placed a Friend, and one last dodgy traverse and a heather-filled gully lead me to less steep ground and a ideally placed boulder around which I could throw a sling for a belay stance.

Alive again.

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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.

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