The sky's dark when we set off from the hut, tramping across rock-strewn Alpine meadows, to the foot of the face we've come to climb. The light drizzles in slowly, grey and uninviting. I feel sweaty and a little nauseous as we slog our way up the hillside. Big routes always make me feel queasy with apprehension. A plaque on a huge boulder that we pass commemorates two Italian climbers - one of whom was a priest - who died on this climb.
Then we are at the bottom, sitting among Alpine flowers, putting on our boots and harnesses, uncoiling ropes and fiddling with cameras, beneath the wall.
This is the Via Steger on the Cima Catinaccio mountains range, in northern Italy. The German speakers of the Tyrol call it the Rosengartenspitze - the Rose Garden Cliff. It rises in a shapely grey surge of limestone 610m (2,000ft) to a peaked ridge that overlooks two sculpted shoulders.
When it was first climbed, before the war, it was regarded as one of the toughest Alps, a reputation it kept until the 1970s. No one would make that claim any more, but it is hard enough for me, which is the important thing.
It starts easily. We climb a couple of rope-lengths on easy ground with large holds. But then it kicks in. A short, steep crack is followed by a wild 'move', that requires me to swing from my arms, and let my feet dangle loose and free.
It would be a fun move on a crag in Britain, but with a rucksack on my back it feels awkward, the weight pulling me in the wrong direction as I get my feet over the lip of the overhang.
Another tricky pitch (section) follows, which my climbing partner, Tom, deals with quickly (he is a far superior climber). And then suddenly we are at the bottom of the feature that splits the face: an elegant line of continuous cracks and chimneys, that leads almost to the summit, several hundred feet above.
Usually I like climbing cracks. You can fill cracks with chocks and camming devices into which you clip the rope. This, unfortunately, is the worst kind of crack: too wide to slot my hands into comfortably, and too big for the equipment we have brought for the route. Instead I find myself looping an ancient wooden chock into the crack, which wobbles alarmingly. I spend a long time looking at it, wondering whether it's going to give out under my weight. But we don't have time to waste, as Tom reminds me from below. He urges me on and I advance, in a clumsy fashion, swearing and generally feeling unhappy.
And so it goes. We swap leads, pitch by pitch, as the day goes by. Towards evening, Tom swings up a final, loose and lethal chimney, jammed with teetering blocks - the only truly unpleasant section of the climb - and we are suddenly on a long, gentle ridge that leads swiftly to the summit.
It all seems a long way from my first climb, but I still get exactly the same buzz. My brother had started climbing while at art school in the Midlands. We spoke about it, and it seemed to me, even then, something I simply had to do. So he arranged to take me when he next went climbing locally. It was raining, so we tried climbing in the rain, skittering about on wet, polished stone. It was hardly the best start.
Then winter came, and we went to north Wales to try climbing on ice. I found myself in a snow-choked gully with a friend of my brother's, and he offered me the lead. I climbed by instinct, finally stopping by a blade of rock sticking out through the snow. I looped it with a sling and clipped the sling into my waist, took in the rope and called for my partner to come up. I had become a climber - after a sort.
And so I started on the traditional climber's induction. We went to Wales and the Peak District in the summer, progressing, or not progressing, up the grades. We went to Scotland in winter to climb the ice-choked gullies of Ben Nevis, the Cairngorms and Glencoe. We went to the Alps and somehow survived despite stunning incompetence.
Later I had bursts of enthusiasm for different styles of climbing. I went out to California three times, to try the vast granite precipices of the Yosemite Valley, finally doing my first 'big wall' over several days with a friend from Aberdeen and a young German woman, who turned out to be an extremely handy climber.
For five years I went to the Alps every winter with my brother - an exercise in utter masochism, but it repaid the misery of climbing in temperatures touching -20C, with some exhilarating ascents.
In those days, there were barely a handful of climbing walls around the country, and they were unfailingly mediocre. You learnt to climb by going out with other enthusiasts, or by hanging around a club until someone took pity on you, or was looking for someone to hold their ropes.
But thankfully climbing has changed. So called 'sport climbing', on cliffs pre-drilled with expansion bolts for protection, has opened up a range of possibilities to relative beginners who would not have been able to tackle such routes in the past.
Bouldering - climbing short routes without a rope, often indoors on walls with pre-placed portable crash mats for protection against breaks and strains - has created a competitive new sub-sport, that requires no more equipment than a pair of good climbing boots and a chalk-bag.
Starting out these days is different for new climbers. My kids started messing around on rocks when they were four, and I now take them to the climbing wall at the end of my road - the Castle in Stoke Newington in London. The centre runs courses for children of eight and above, and adults of pretty much any age.
These days, most people start safely indoors, learning the basics before they set off for the outdoors. There are more indoor walls cropping up all over the country, allowing newcomers to get a feel for the sport, and build up their confidence before tackling a natural face.
For the first time, climbing is a genuinely popular sport, no longer perceived as the province of a lunatic fringe (although there are plenty of them still out there). There are more women climbing too, especially indoors, which has helped take the edge of a slightly macho image. Clubs have many more new members than when I started, reflecting the wider base that the sport is attracting.
The truth is that most clubs, and old pros alike, realised a while ago that it is better to help new members along than frighten them to bits. The doors are now open for anyone who wants to get involved. Suddenly it's never been easier to take up what remains one of the most dramatic and challenging sports on the planet.
FIVE TOP CLIMBS
Climbs are graded from 'moderate' to 'very difficult', 'severe', 'very severe', 'hard very severe' and 'extreme'. Extreme grades are then classed from E1 to E10. Though this all sounds rather scary, the grades were dished out nearly a century ago, and nowadays you'll find relative beginners climbing anything up to a very severe.
Bosigran Ridge (very difficult)
Location: Bosigran, Cornwall. A popular novice route in one of Britain's most magical settings overlooking Portmoina Cove, and giving views across to Bosigran Main Cliff, Cornwall's most famous crag.
A Dream of White Horses (hard, very severe)
Location: Gogarth, Anglesey, Wales. A rising traverse around three sides on perfect white rock. Excitement's added by the knowledge that a fall would leave you dangling above the sea.
Cenotaph Corner (extreme E1)
Location: Llanberis Pass, north Wales. Still Britain's most famous extreme, Cenotaph Corner, as its name sug-gests, follows a right-angle between two other walls, with hard moves near the top just when you are tired.
The Pinch Direct (extreme E3)
Location: Glen Etive, Scotland. The Trilleachan Slabs in Glen Etive are set back at a gentle angle that belies the challenge of one of Britain's climbing locations. The smooth surface means you must 'pad' up the holdless rock on the balls of your feet, relying on friction, while keeping a cool head.
The Indian Face (extreme E9)
Location: Snowdon, North Wales. Few crags have been so associated with British climbing history. This is technically demanding climbing with hardly any protection. Though none of us will be tearing up it anytime soon, its history will always ensure it has a place in the back of every British climber's mind.
MOVING ON UP
Climbing walls
All indoor climbing-wall clubs offer introductory classes, but most will not take children younger than eight. Check for qualified instructors. Indoor walls are also good places to meet other climbers, especially beginners. Climbingclub.co.uk has a searchable database of climbing walls around the country.
Outdoor centres
A number of specialised outdoor centres offer training courses over a weekend or a week, often mixing climbing with other activities. Visit ukclimbing.com for a list of centres.
Equipment
Climbing can be an expensive sport. However the basic equipment needed for starting - boots and a harness - can be rented at most climbing walls. Many also provide fixed top-ropes for customers' use.
If you do want your own equipment, start off with a pair of specialised climbing shoes: tight slippers with high-friction rubber soles. They can be bought for between £50-£70, and a harness costs around the same.
More experienced climbers will require one or two ropes and a rack of climbing equipment, including carabiners and specialised protection devices which can cost from a few pounds to over £50 each. While many people choose to climb without a helmet, they are an extremely good investment and can save your life.
Further information
The British Mountaineering Council (0870 010 4878) is the national body for climbing and mountaineering in Britain and provides advice on training, safety and legal issues for climbers at all levels. It can give you information about finding the right instructor, and arrange your climbing insurance. It also compiles an extensive list of all the clubs and climbing walls in the country.
