I felt physically sick as I approached the edge. The cliff soared away below me. My mind was in turmoil. What was I doing here? How had I been talked into this? Do I really want to be a climber? Can't I just be satisfied to spend my weekends sat in front of the TV watching mind numbing reality shows like an average schmuck? But I am a climber. Like it or not, it consumes my every waking moment.

I looked out to sea and thought of my wife at work hundreds of miles away. How mundane that seemed compared to this. How I wished I was at work; bored, safe. Just get on with it I told myself. Exorcise those demons, exercise my body.

Mark was already down, I was committed now. I couldn't just leave him there. The wind was threatening to show me the quick way down. I clipped into the single belay stake at the top of the route and prepared to abseil. I felt a little happier now. My world was reduced to absolute trust in 11mm of rope and a metal stake. No use worrying now. I descended the face and surveyed the route as I went.

I was out of the wind now and tying into the belay at the base of the route. “How did you find that,” asked Mark? “Fucking scary” I replied. “Yeah me too.” We both laughed nervously. We were at Floddigarry on the Isle of Skye attempting the classic route Spantastic (HVS 4C, 4C). The main feature of the route is an instantly recognizable 10 metre leaning pillar of rock. The pillar, only a few feet wide at its base, is described as “the only route in Scotland that attracts a weight limit.” It is hard to tell what is actually still holding the pillar in place. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before its tenuous grip on the vertical world is released and it is condemned to the depths of the ocean.

Mark and I concentrated hard as we prepared ropes and gear. The consequences of dropping anything into the sea below didn't bear thinking about. I was secretly proud with how I was coping, raising my game to meet these demands. Committed to the moment, determined to do a good job. A real adventure unfolding.

Mark set off slowly up the leaning pillar. I could tell he was nervous. “No gear” Mark uttered in a grim voice. 10 metres of unprotected climbing lay ahead. It was high tide now, the sea just a few feet below me. Below Mark was the prospect of a terrifying fall. A mistake would send him plummeting to the bottom of the ocean and leave me stranded on the ledge. The irony of the situation struck me. The higher Mark climbed the bigger the fall would be, but with each upward movement he was one step closer to safety. Mark moved slowly and cautiously upward, I could sense the psychological tension in his every movement. Neither of us spoke, there was no need. We knew the consequences for both of us if he fell. He'd made it. Mark was now at the top of the pillar arranging protection. The sense of relief for both of us was tangible.

Now it was my turn to tackle the pillar. I took a few deep breaths then committed thirteen and a half stone of scared climber to the fragile looking pillar, desperately hoping I had not exceeded the weight limit. The sea was all around me, the position wild. To my left the ocean, to my right a dark brooding sea cave, below me a big drop, in front of me a line of small flat edges leading up the pillar. That was where I must focus my attention. All thoughts were concentrated on careful footwork and balance. I was climbing well. I must not fall off here. To do so may make regaining the pillar difficult. I had my prussiks with me but the prospect of having to use them was a thought I was not willing to entertain. The climbing was enjoyable. Balancy and reasonably technical, the angle of the slab fairly forgiving. (NB: it is also possible to climb by bridging the gap between the pillar and the main face.) The small footholds could tire weary calves fairly quickly so I decided not to hang about. I was up. On the ledge with Mark below the second pitch, the worst now behind us.

Mark offered me the lead and for a while I considered it. The first pitch hadn't exactly put me in the right frame of mind so I passed. I just wanted to be off this thing now. Mark set off up the second pitch and was soon out of sight. As Mark neared the top he came into view again. I could see he was struggling with the last few moves up an awkward crack, but at least the protection was now good. After a few abortive efforts Mark was finally off the cliff and making his way up the steep grass slope to the belay stake.

I began climbing. Easy steps between ledges soon gave way to more challenging ground as I approached the exit crack. I traversed tentatively towards the crack glad that I was now directly below Mark, the possibility of swinging across the face now gone. I bridged across between two footholds and reached up for a good handhold with my left hand. Crack! The hold immediately broke away and plummeted into the sea far below. I remained in balance and regained what little composure I had been desperately clinging on to.

The crack was quite awkward. The handholds not too positive, the footholds high. I called for a tight rope and made the last few moves quickly, motivated by the prospect of getting off this climb. The day was now over; we had not seen another soul. Mark and I excitedly discussed the route feeling like we'd just gotten away with a crime, stolen something valuable. It had been a great day and perhaps my most memorable climb. I still can't help smiling when I think of that route. The climbing never too hard, but the situation always intimidating. Hell I'm no Mick Fowler, but I'd had my own personal adventure and pushed my emotional limits. I felt proud.

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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