My Passion with James Sutcliffe: A slippery moment didn't cool my love of ice climbing

AS so often happens with a new hobby, I didn't set out one day thinking, "I fancy taking up ice climbing", but came upon it more by chance.

In December 2000, I decided to walk the Yorkshire Three Peaks with three friends from work. Armed with unsuitable footwear and clothing, and with no real hiking experience, I ended up with blisters after only two miles, and eventually, after 20 miles, the walk was abandoned.

Rather than putting me off, this experience gave me a taste for walking, and soon we were hiking, then scrambling, routes in the Lake District.

This progressed to climbing gritstone crags around the Skipton area and we then went to Scotland with a guy from the local outdoor shop. In anticipation of some winter climbing we bought ourselves stiff boots and crampons, borrowed some axes, and set off to Glen Coe where we met some new friends who actually knew what they were doing out on the hills. It was with these new friends that we went on a trip to Rjukan in Norway and my ice climbing passion was born.

My second trip to Norway was in January 2005. We started with some gentle routes, before venturing up the nearby gorge for our biggest route yet, Trappfoss. In the end, only myself and a friend decided to try it. A short time later, I found myself clattering down the ice, and dangling upside down from my harness, with the rope held only by some protection I had placed earlier in the soft slushy ice, which I wasn't convinced was strong enough to hold me.

Waves of nausea started sweeping over me and I knew I was in shock. Given our remote location, we now had a serious problem on our hands.

I had to abseil (not easy when you can't use your leg) down into the gorge, where the others were waiting. Eventually, we began to make progress with me supported by two friends, while another went to raise the alarm.

I was rescued by a helicopter which managed to land in the gorge. It had ski-type landing gear and the pilot balanced it perfectly – one ski resting on a boulder, the other on some tangled metal.

I had broken a bone in my foot. My rescue made the news in Norway as it was such a daring mission to land the helicopter in the gorge.

My foot was pinned and I flew back to the UK with a cast and crutches, luckily recovering in time for my wedding. Five years on it still occasionally causes me to limp but have I given up ice climbing? Of course not.