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The summit wind was increasing westerly, gusting about thirty. Temperature was modest, wind chill high, relative humidity low – average conditions for the Southern Approach. I looked away from the check-in TV screen and contemplated the 'Climb of Your Life'.

First there was a Breathalyzer and Climber Declaration. I "honestly declared" I was not under the influence of drugs legal or illegal and wouldn't interfere with the safety of the climb. I agreed to obey our Leader, not to damage or deface equipment and to my rugged, sun-kissed image being used freely. We donned matt-grey boiler suits, radio sets, lanyards and harnesses, and removed watches, bracelets and pens. Combed by a metal detector and drilled in technique, we trooped out to the street and the smirks of passers-by.

Those grey BridgeSuits are sartorial suicide, a cross between Star Trek and Blake's Seven. But climbing Sydney's Harbour Bridge is a serious business. No one wants motorists distracted by Day-Glow, micro-skirted climbers. Or a dropped camera shattering a windscreen. Sleek, grey and unadorned, then, we entered an arch, climbed stairs and emerged onto catwalks above Dawes Point.

BridgeClimb is the brainchild of Paul Cave, an Australian entrepreneur. In 1989 he was involved in arranging a climb of the bridge as part of a Young Presidents Organisation Congress. It was deemed a success but for Cave this was just the prelude. Inspired in part by his father-in-law who in 1932 had queued to buy the bridge's first railway ticket, he set about convincing the authorities of its feasibility as a tourist attraction.

There was little doubt the icon could earn income. Cave spent nearly ten years overcoming various hurdles. Its owners, the Roads and Traffic Authority of New South Wales, had issues of safety and doubts about commercialising such a landmark. There were heritage and conservation concerns, too, for the plan seemed akin to, say, offering bungee jumps off Big Ben. So, like our grey outfits, the logistics of facilitating climbs had to blend in. Carefully advised, his persistence paid off. BridgeClimb opened in October 1998 with a twenty-year licence, and by April 2003 a million climbers had crested the famous arch.

It is like stepping into an Escher graphic – all beams and girders and receeding perspectives, a kind of muscular industrial beauty. No room for error, though. Each of the four bearing pins that lie near the foot of four pylons supports 20,000 tonnes, and the arch alone weighs 39,000. Just as well I'd eaten a light lunch. In the park below, walkers gazed up at us and gawped. With harnesses secured to a static line, we strolled along the catwalk towards the great eastern arch where the ascent began in earnest.

The route worms its way through steely innards. We climbed ladders past traffic lanes, ducked beneath massive joists and squeezed by a granite-faced pylon. There are Five Golden Rules here on the edifice. So, for example, apart from calmly placing one foot in front of the other, you should aim to have three points of contact at any time. Pausing to confirm no one had doubts, or become deranged or unhooked their carabiners, our Leader regaled us with everything one wanted to know about the bridge but never thought to ask.

Work began in 1923 with the grittily-named 'Turning of the First Sod'. About six million rivets were used in its construction, thrice that of the Eifel Tower. The decks expand by four centimetres, the arch can flex by eighteen depending on temperature. The original tender was for £4.2M; ultimately it cost around £9M and interest on the loans was only paid off in 1988. Paul Hogan once worked here among the maintenance crew, and deep down one wonders if Paul Cave wished he owned it. His collection of bridge memorabilia is said to number five thousand items.

While wind chill data seemed a bit pseud down on the street, up on the arch it was profound. Some of us donned BridgeFleeces and our Leader noted climbs operate in all weather but electrical storms. Happily the cumulonimbus were having a day off. Gaining the summit – there's no dearth of lofty terms here – is no harder than, say, hiking a broken escalator at Angel. Tread plates bolted to that long, glorious curve allow easy walking to an altitude of 134m. But unlike Angel the view is, well, stupendous.

We gazed at all the landmarks, even spied the leader's house – that is the Prime Minister's, not ours. Etiquette requires a group shot, arms aloft in symmetrical camaraderie. Solo portraits are rigourous; the mock fall, even a hint of leg-over-railing, is unacceptable, while mock-spiritual poses seem to be frowned upon. So I stood with my best 'Climb of Your Life' grin. Back on earth the pictures and Climber Certificates were ready along with a quick debriefing. We had walked 1.8km and 1439 steps.

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