Climbing Blind review – a tale of tenacity, adaptation and hope

Those who have not yet taken their tentative steps back into the great outdoors will find much to ogle at from the safety of their living rooms in the short, sweet Climbing Blind (BBC Four). It tells the story of Jesse Dufton, a climber with a degenerative eye condition that has left him with almost no sight. Three years ago, he says, he thought he might have to give up “lead” climbing (for outsiders like me, that’s going up first) completely. But with the help of his fiancee Molly and his own determination, he set himself a challenge instead. He intends to become the first blind climber to lead on the Old Man of Hoy, a gorgeous, imposing 450ft seastack in Orkney.

This is a film made by, and largely for, climbing enthusiasts, though it does the casual non-climbing viewer the courtesy of explaining everything that needs to be explained. Director Alastair Lee has made plenty of climbing films before and his wealth of experience shows. He is present in the story, because he has to be – to film a climb means being on the climb.

However, the story is very much Dufton’s. He tells Lee that his vision has gone to such an extent that he cannot see his hand in front of his face unless he waves it around. This makes climbing a very different endeavour for him. He can’t see where he should be putting his hands or his feet, or his equipment, and has to use a combination of touch and verbal guidance from Molly. “I’m not really using my eyes, to be honest,” he says, which is all the more astonishing when the camera cuts away to the enormous drops beneath him.

The intricacies of what it means to climb without sight and how that can be possible are truly fascinating. As Dufton spends so much time searching for holds by touch, it usually takes him three or four times as long as it might take a sighted climber. Other climbers talk about what he does with incredulity; after attempting to boulder with a blindfold on, one even admits to Dufton that he’s wondering why he wants to do it at all. “You don’t get the satisfaction when there’s no chance of failure,” says Dufton, even though the failure in question is potentially very grave indeed.

But this is a story of triumph. There’s little sentimentality here, only no-nonsense dedication to achieving what many would deem to be impossible. Dufton’s parents are a treat, giggling as they admit that they saw him bumping into things as a child: “We just thought, well, he’s not looking where he’s going.” When Molly tells the story of her partner’s proposal, on a mountaintop in Greenland, she says, simply: “Obviously I said yes.” Their relationship is a marvel to watch, whether she is describing a narrow grassy path, hanging perilously close to a sheer drop into the sea in order for him to navigate it, or offering encouragement as he twists his way up under a particularly awkward rock.

There is so much action that there is little room for contemplation, but when it comes, it is touching. Dufton says he can remember Molly’s face as it was when they first met and he still had some of his sight. He says the one thing he would like back is the ability to see it again. There is some discussion about the possibility of him one day being able to see again, should scientific research get to that point, but there is also thoughtful discussion about what that would mean. Would being able to see make him a better climber, or is he a better climber because he has had to adapt to the resources and skills at his disposal?

There are three “preparation climbs” as Dufton prepares to tackle the Old Man of Hoy. Each builds a nice sense of what is to come and it really is breathtaking to watch, as well as to enjoy the scenery that many of us will have been missing for the past three months. By the time we get to the climb itself, there is little doubt that Dufton will make it. This isn’t really about Free Solo levels of tension, nor is it particularly showy. It’s about tenacity and adaptation and hope. It has the feel of a charming, lo-fi sports film, but the human story at the centre of it is extraordinary.