A long-ago March Sunday. The sky pale, the sun warm.

We've been to Auchinstarry before, Jim and me. It was here that we left the security of the climbing world within for the first inept fumblings in the big wide world without.

We've toproped many of the climbs. We've even clawed our way inelegantly up the E5 smoothness of Nijinski. And we're familiar with today's route.

But this is the first lead for both of us.

Ladies first.

Wordlessly I rack up. Jim's gear mostly. The slings, the rope, are mine.

Teamwork.

I tie the figure-of-eight. Focus. Buddy check. Solid.

I look at Jim. “You can do this.” Did he say it aloud, or just think it? Either way, I hear it; and I know he's right. I turn and place my hands on the rock. The ledges are a little sandy. My fingers dust them off, find grip.

“Climbing.”

The first part is easy. My body moves fluidly. It feels good. The drag of the rope is unfamiliar, tugging me down; but the rough brown rock, sun-warmed, pulls me upwards.

The voices of other climbers, although close by, slide away. My world narrows.

Gear! I'm supposed to place gear. I lean into the rock, my flesh trying to meld with it as I search the rack for a bunch of nuts. The first one is too small, slides straight out. The next plonks itself down perfectly into the crack. Beautiful. Reach for a quickdraw, then the rope.

“Clipped!”

Jim takes in the slack, and I look down at him for the first time. He smiles sunnily back up.

More simple moves, more gear placements. I feel comfortable, settled. No fear, no exhilaration: just a sense that this is right. This is where I should be. Free, the gear below my feet, above me the sky.

I've reached the bottom of the flake crack now. The edges are curved – too curved. The wall to the left blank: no help there. For the first time, I hesitate. An ant traverses the rock in front of me, sticky-footed, protectionless.

Doubt takes root, and suddenly burgeons.

A crow mocks me from the leafless tree at the top of the crag. Jim seems tiny, far away, unconnected. My palms begin to sweat. Focus, focus! Deliberately I dip my hands, one at a time, into my chalk bag. The smooth powder soothes my fear. Jim has me, I know he has me. Concentrate.

The world contracts once more to me and the rock. The crack is good, accepts my gear willingly. Silence seeps in, punctuated by my breathing and the cowbell tinkling of the rack. Trust my feet, trust my feet...

And then it's over. I'm anchored at the top between ground and sky. Little mining bees are burrowing into the sandy turf beside me, and the earth smells alive. There's a sense that this is right. This is where I should be.

And Jim's coming up on my rope, and now the roles are reversed, and his life is in my hands.

Teamwork.

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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