The guidebook said Difficult, but I wasn't sure what that meant. I had heard other climbers say Very Difficult was easy so presumably Difficult was easier. How could Difficult mean easy when in every other walk of life it meant what it said? Confusion undermined the search for truth, for the obvious truth, such as where did the route start and less obvious inner truths. Do not expect to find certainty in guidebooks and never a mention of lung bursting, shoulder aching, drowning in sweat, approaches.

So, before time began, I stood with my novice partner at the bottom of 'Bow Fell Buttress' and proceeded to gear up. A Troll climbing belt – remember those- an odd assortment of things I didn't know the name of, attached to bits of frayed cord and a borrowed furry rope. Armoured with this pathetic array of equipment and the knowledge that I had forged my skills, seconding, on the anvil of gritstone. I embarked, with trepidation, on the first moves.

Years later I found that I had climbed the 'Severe' start. I was too inexperienced to tell the difference. Anyone can climb, on the end of a rope. How it alters your perception and how mine was altering when on the front, “This is hard for a Diff” I thought. A millstone mantra that lends itself to all climbs and possibly life?

And so it continued. The learning curve should have been as steep as the rock but I was blinded by an odd mixture of fear, exhilaration and sheer bloody minded stubbornness. The greasy polished chimney fell to a lunge and a scrabble. The slabby start of the second pitch was conquered by ignorance and belief that better holds would arrive. They did of course, but where oh where were the gear placements? I couldn't find anywhere to put the things that I didn't know the names of.

Anxiety blinded me to the numerous possibilities and made all the holds slope the wrong way. Fortunately the stances were commodious and with good anchors. I resolved to pay more attention to what my climbing friends had been showing me if I ever got back to the grit.

The classic crack fell to the same ignorance that had led me to it as did the other small problems that followed. I danced on the edge of the world and the demons failed to break down my door. I became so absorbed by the totality of the experience that the world stopped spinning but I didn't fall off.

Of course the climb is easy, the truth is I made it hard but isn't that how it should have been for a first lead?

In time I came to realise the privilege of starting my long journey on such a gem. It didn't spit me out but seduced me with a succession of small, but not insurmountable, problems leading inexorably to the top and the start of a lifelong passion. Now we have harnesses and I can place gear, but Bowfell Buttress is that rare thing, a first love that you can return to.

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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