Much to the disappointment of my fellow cub-scouts, and to my great embarrassment, I was lowered off the climbing wall, defeated.

A few years later I returned, determined to conquer the huge climbing wall that stood proud above the trees at scout camp. Once I became comfortable climbing on the big florescent holds I persuaded my Dad, an experienced climber, to take me to the Peak District to enjoy some rugged Bamford Diffs. “I don't know how you did that?” I remember saying as my Dad sat peering over the top, “I'd never lead a climb.” With a tight rope I crept up the exposed slab on sloping holds, trying to wiggle out the strange looking devices slotted into cracks, which allegedly stay there in the event of a fall.

It was a cool spring morning, low cloud had engulfed our intended destination of Stanage and we were forced to the lower lying outcrop of Birchen Edge. We started the walk in along the damp sandy path, meandering through the trees, and after what seemed only a few seconds the impressive wide fissure of Trafalgar Crack towered above us. I decided at once that this was to be my first lead. I impatiently geared up with excessive amounts of nuts, quickdraws, cams, hexes (mainly for those classic sound effects), karabiners, my belay device and a few slings. I was ready for my first lead.

I placed a couple of small nuts in the first thin crack to protect the crux move; reaching the ledge above. “Bomber!” my Dad said, but I wasn't so sure. For now, I cast aside my worries and mentally rehearsed the move. It was a typical Birchen climb; the first move being the crux, with things easing above – with all the holds very well polished of course. I cleaned off my boots, twice, not taking any risks, and shook out my arms to get the blood flowing. I put my hand on the first hold.

“Climbing.”

“Okay.”

I took a deep breath and pulled my feet up, onto the well worn holds. The slings hugged my chest, the hexes jangled at my waist – I was proper climber! I pulled on my right arm and reached with my left for the ledge above. The rock was slightly damp as my fingers curled around the sloped edge of the hold. My foot slipped. Panicking, I made a frantic 'knee-bar' mantelshelf, thrashing my feet against the rock to help me upwards until somehow I was on the ledge, my face smeared firmly against the rock, heart racing and palms sweating. It then dawned on me that I had just committed to the move with only two tiny wedges of metal between me and the solid ground miles below.

I had a rest, regained my composure fumbled around with a cam until it was firmly stuck in the crack. All I thought about was the next move, and moved everything else to the back of my mind as I forced myself to shuffle along the ledge to gain the first juggy hand hold. Thank God. I placed a lovely sideways nut, not just any nut, but a lovely one. These primitive bits of metal were now becoming something precious, something of beauty and integrity.

Of course, I had filled the crack with gear by the time I reached for the final sloping holds and hauled myself over the top. A mixture of relief, joy and pride flowed through my body as I moved away from the edge in search for a boulder to belay from. I was determined to lead it and had made it. I was a climber, a lead climber, a proper climber.

For me, my first lead opened a door in climbing. Suddenly there is so much more to climbing; finding out where the route goes, protecting it, controlling the ropes, working out the moves and keeping calm above those more dubious nut placements.

This is climbing.

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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