“Sounds like we’re in business, old friend.”

I'd bet most folks likely won't want to listen to the entire stand-up EVA conducted by CDR Scott at the start of lunar surface activities.  I mean, what Dave describes is wicked amazing, but the audio is admittedly a bit dry.  Anyway, here's how he sets the scene in the book he wrote with Cosmonaut Alexei Leonov (you've met before), Two Sides of the Moon:

Though Deke Slayton and others in NASA management had initially opposed it on the grounds that it would consume extra oxygen, the plan we had finally agreed on was for me to perform a half-hour stand-up EVA, or SEVA, shortly after touchdown. By climbing up on to the cover of the engine inside the craft, and opening the upper hatch—rather as if I was in the conning tower of a submarine or the turret of a tank—I would stand up and take a good look around. 

On geology trips I had learned the value of such an initial reconnaissance. But this would be a reconnaissance like no other. So, two hours after touchdown, after slowly depressurizing the cabin, I placed a protective outer helmet—a lunar excursion excursion visor assembly, or LEVA—over my inner helmet, and clambered up to my vantage point in my bulky, but by now pressurized, spacesuit. 

Pulling my oxygen hoses and communication cables behind me, I slowly hoisted my elbows on to the rim of the hatch. I found I could support my own weight quite comfortably in the reduced gravity, and started to take in the view. What an awesome view it was.

Even with the protective filter across my visor, the sunlight reflecting off the crystal-clear features on the surface was intense, contrasting sharply with the deep, rich blackness of the sky beyond. The low sun angle of the early lunar morning laid long shadows over the spectacular scenery spread before me. 

It was like an exhibition of exquisite images by the great photographer Ansel Adams. There was no color, but great contrast between the brightly illuminated surface and the black shadow of the mountain slopes and craters where no sunlight fell. 

“Oh, boy, what a view!” I exclaimed. “Beautiful.” 

Jim handed a bearing indicator and large orientation map up to me, and I began to give a number of precise location indicators and started to take a series of high-resolution connecting photographs of the full panorama that encircled us. Shortly after we had landed I had advised Houston, “Tell those geologists in the back room to get ready because we’ve really got something for them.” 

They sure did.  And with that, happy First and Only (so far) SEVA on the Lunar Surface Day to all who celebrate!

PS - Image from here.  You know, I have a birthday coming up...