My first entrance fee to the lucky strike club was paid on Dow crag, Coniston, early 1960's.
I had been driven there by a bloke from the Old DG, Langdale, where I was resident and part of the mountain rescue team.
The drive there, on his Royal Enfield motorcycle, was the most frightening experience of my life. I was therefore determined to put him in his place by scaring him equally on B Route.
We roped up in increasingly bad weather. Two pitches on, the crux pitch, 120 foot of rope required, I led off with the distant boom of thunder in my ears. Sped up what was considered to be the "hard bit", barely noticed it being just back from Annapurna, belayed in on a nice flake, gathered the rope tight, gave the call, sat back waiting for him to sh*it himself when....
I barely remember the boom. I do remember hanging from a rope with 250 feet below my feet of fresh air, vaguely recovering my senses, hauling myself up to the belay, noticing with slightly odd fascination that the main karabiner had all but melted, checked my waist harness to notice all but a few strands of my rope had melted.. I had been hanging by threads and suddenly it was me needing the immodium
Terribly subdued when I arrived home at the ODG. burns everywhere including a very painful one where evidently everything had tracked around my Harness