So, this was it. I'd left the pungent smell of chalk and the humus atmosphere of the climbing wall behind. The confines of the wall; plastic and plywood didn't exist here. I'd taken a trip along the M50 to Symonds Yat, an area I know relatively well, that has entertained me with hours of top-roping. Today was different however, the goal was to lose my leading virginity; with the ultimate goal of being able to take my climbing further afield and experience what I'd had read and seen in all the climbing literature I'd spent hours pouring over.

Picking a route was done more through impatience than any real judgment of our own capabilities. Sixty feet, that was all. How hard could it be? I racked what little gear I had: a few rockcentrics, some nuts and a couple of quickdraws; largely begged and borrowed from friends. I counted my gear clipping it to my harness in a way that I felt would work.

“Climb when ready”.

“CLIMBING!” the first few movements felt more awkward and disjointed than all my previous climbing. Concentrating on the moves, nearly counting. Ironically the route was called Abacus.

Placing a sling over the rock and clipping in provided some needed reassurance and allowed me to feel confident. The first bead of Abacus moved to the right.

The rock became more vertical, by my standards, and I edged upwards worrying about my last placement. I questioned my sanity. Why do I dislike football to the extent that drives me to do this?

Reaching into a crack, it fitted my hand like a glove; it would also fit a nut. Unfortunately there was already a hand in there. Realising that this would form the next piece of protection I squirmed my body to slowly move my posture so I could use another hold. With my left hand wishing to be glued to what seemed to be very polished limestone (It wasn't!) I reached awkwardly with my right hand to a nut. Slowly manipulating the nut from my harness I gingerly placed it and pulled for some rope to clip it. Upwards. Another bead on the Abacus.

Another two nuts in similar places and the top got nearer, one more bead. A small tree was there providing a brilliant hold but my desire to complete the climb in one piece meant I struggled to hold it with one hand whilst unraveling a sling and wrapping it around the tree.

Pulling hard on the tree and scrambling with my feet on the loose soil I had done it. I was alive. I hadn't fallen. This was better than sitting on a sofa watching a game I don't understand. I was hooked.

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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