All this lark about 'my most trusted friend' and 'a day of enlightenment' when people consider the 'epic moment' that was their first lead; I feel is a ladling it on a little. My first lead was nothing like that. I have been reading these articles sporadically. Being a student in North Wales, I spend a lot time fighting off the possibility of working, staring at the screen and doing little else due to the awful weather at the moment. But these articles have aroused my memory of what my first lead was and how it felt. I can't remember my first lead much at all; not the route name nor the grade, although I'm reasonably sure that it was HS or VS. I don't even remember the exact crag, just the vague area, Tremadoc. I think it was sunny.
People consider their first lead an important stepping stone into the real world of climbing, experiencing the freedom of the rock properly for the first time. While undoubtedly the first lead is an essential point in the development of anyone's climbing career, I found all the sentimentality of the occasion rather lacking. I had only ever top roped small grit crags, had no idea of gear placement, climbed the thing with only a few nuts and, I think, five quickdraws. My second was someone I had just met milling around the bottom of the route, literally a case of 'you'll do.' I minced up the route with what I can only assume was terror and exertion. That to me was part and parcel of what was to be expected and the fear as always diminishes and suddenly subsides as one nears the end of the stance or route. Once at the top I had no idea of how to set up a belay but I did my best. If it seems like a slap dash job ineptly carried out, it is because it was, but I was fine and so was my partner.
I think it might have been a little more momentous for my second though. I later found out that route we did was her first after a serious accident resulting in real injury, she still mentions it when I bump into her.
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