This amazing ascent of El Matador (first climbed by Fred Beckey and Eric Bjornstad in 1967) was captured for this year’s Brit Rock Film Tour (the website seems a bit outdated). Five years ago, Brit Rock made a film about Dufton’s first blind lead of the Old Man of Hoy: Climbing Blind . On Devils Tower, Dufton led all the pitches except one.
"Jesse didn’t get the on sight he was hoping for, however what unfolded seemed to transcend climbing styles and turned into a bloody minded (plus knees, elbows, shins and fingers) battle to overcome fear and fatigue to somehow reach those shiny bolt belays," wrote the gang at @britrockfilms.
Powder caught up with him this week.
Powder: Where did you grow up and how did you get into climbing?
Dufton: When I was in primary school we moved to Winchester, in the south of the UK, just north of Southampton. I lived in Winchester until I was 18 and left home to go to University in Bath. I guess I had already started climbing before moving to Winchester as my dad had taken me climbing for the first time when I was 2 years old. We used to go on family trips to Fontainebleau in France every year, and on the first of these I was small enough to have a bath in a washing up bowl. Winchester is not a good place to live if you are a climber. There isn’t any climbing nearby. The nearest is Swanage on the UK’s south coast, but this is a 2-hour drive so impractical for a quick evening hit. We used to go away climbing for the weekend often. I do remember leading my first trad route when I was 11 years old.
Powder: What is the condition affecting your eyes?
Dufton: The umbrella term is rod-cone dystrophy. Simply put, it means that the light sensitive cells at the back of my eyes are damaged and dying. I have a genetic error that means one of the supporting structures that should hold the light sensitive cells in place is defective, and so because of the lack of support the light sensing cells crumble from a nice flat sheet into little breadcrumbs. There is currently no cure, and it is not corrected by wearing glasses. I don’t just see black, but I can no longer see an image. It’s more like looking into a kaleidoscope, a mishmash of flashing lights. Critically, I can no longer read or recognise people or even simple shapes, and when I’m climbing, I’m not getting any useful information from my eyes. I can’t see any of the handholds, the footholds or the gear. I’m just relying on touch and any verbal instructions my climbing partner can give me.
Powder: You were climbing before your eyes deteriorated? Yes?
Dufton: It’s a bit more nuanced as I have never had “normal” eyesight. When I was growing up, I was partially sighted, my eyesight was terrible. I could read, but only with a huge magnifier and one word at a time, I was never able to see the individual leaves on a tree, it was just a green blob. I was already climbing at this point, but I could only see the big holds and only when they were close e.g. 3m or less. I was never able to stand at the base of a climb, look up and plan the sequence in which to use the holds. I have never known what it is like to climb with “normal” vision. For me, the baseline was terrible vision, but in about 2010, during the start of my PHD, my sight deteriorated significantly, and I gradually went from having terrible vision to no useful vision.
Powder: Tell me about "Eye Disappear" in Morocco.
Dufton: Molly [his wife] and I had gone on a climbing trip to the Anti-Atlas Mountains with a group of other climbers, some of them had done a lot of the development of the area over the last 20 years. There is an unreal amount of quality rock there and still a significant quantity of unclimbed lines. I wanted to attempt a first ascent and a friend kindly directed me to a crag known as Heavy Rock. I think his words were “everything to the left of here is unclimbed.” For context, this crag is huge, and he’d just indicated a sector over 100m wide and 100m tall. We picked a line where we thought it would be possible to reach the top of the cliff. Clearly, there’s a lot of uncertainty as from the ground it’s difficult to determine whether the rock on the upper section of the cliff will be climbable. Being blind I wasn’t offering a great deal of insight… I was trusting Molly and our friend Paul to pick a good line. I led the first pitch, Paul the second and Molly the third. We thought it was consistent in terms of difficulty. We gave it VS 4b (5.8 in American grades) throughout. I’ve talked to a few sighted climbers about on-sight new routing and they have said that for them it’s a very different experience to repeating established routes because there is so much uncertainty. Interestingly, for me the difference is much less marked. Every time I go climbing whether it’s an established route or a first ascent, I have no clue what is coming up until I feel the holds. It’s like every route I climb is a first ascent. In the end the climbing on Eye Disappear was well within my comfort zone (I had on-sighted an E2/5.10b days before Eye Disappear), but I think the thing that made it significant is that I had the balls to go for it in the first place. Paul returned to the crag a day or so after and climbed an unclimbed line next to Eye Disappear, grading it E2. When taking on Eye Disappear I could very well have been attempting something at, or beyond, my trad on-sight limit.
Powder: How did you come about wanting to do El Matador on the Devil’s Tower?
Dufton: I went to a talk given by the legendary French climber Catherine Destivelle. She talked about some of the awesome rock routes that she’s done over the years and El Matador was one. After the talk I researched the route and thought that it was one I’d like to try.
Powder: Why is El Matador a good climb for you?
Dufton: The crux pitch follows this square cut slot between two of the tower’s columns. I knew that route finding for this section wouldn’t be a problem there is a huge, and hugely obvious, feature to follow. Contrast that with some face climbs, especially bolted routes, where there is an intricate sequence of crimps winding their way up a blank wall. It can be hard for me to follow the “line” as I can’t see the holds for the upcoming moves. As well as the route finding, I thought the rock type would suit me. I have climbed on formations which are similar, having these parallel columns. Like Kilt Rock on Skye or Fairhead in Northern Ireland, I’ve done some of my hardest routes on these, as I’ve got on well with the rock. The climbing requires excellent endurance, which is a stronger aspect of my climbing. Additionally, I am reasonably tall, and I had thought that this would give me an advantage on El Matador as I would be able to bridge/stem between the sides of the square cut slot sooner than most climbers.
Powder: What else have you done that’s noteworthy? Although everything that you’ve done is noteworthy.
Dufton: In 2017 Molly and I organised a self-supported (no professional guides or food drops etc) expedition to the Stauning Alps in central eastern Greenland. We went in April (full winter conditions with temperatures down to -30C) spent a month ski touring up the Roslin Glacier and down the Bjornbo Glacier. We claimed the first ascents of 2 previously unclimbed mountains in winter alpine style.
On rock, in 2019 I became the first blind person to lead The Old Man of Hoy, a 137-meter tall Scottish sea stack graded E1 (5.10a). In 2020 I on-sighted Forked Lightning Crack, a Don Whillans test piece, this was my first E2, though I later learned it is given E3 in plenty of modern guides. I’ve on-sighted two other routes on the E2/E3 boundary, Internationale at Kilt Rock (a motivation for El Matador) and Destiny on Lundy Island. I’ve on-sighted F7a sport and have quite a few E2 on-sights now including Illusion Dweller (Joshua Tree National Park and one of the top 10 routes in America, according to mountain project) a couple in Morocco. I’ve led ice climbs up to WI4 clean.
While those routes are the hardest in terms of grades, grades don’t always mean that much to me, as being blind makes me climb differently and things that are easy if you can see, can be really hard if you can’t. Two examples stand out. First, The Flake in Joshua Tree which is graded 5.8. This route has a slab section protected by bolts, one of which I initially missed (see the account on my blog). I think this was about as hard for me as Illusion Dweller even though on paper it is 3 grades easier. The second example is Kinvig in Pembroke, graded E1, it is not popular or well known. It is poorly protected by small wires, which are fiddly to place blind and the climbing is all about an intricate foot sequence, again hard when you are blind. I thought I was going to fluff it on every move. The result of a fall would have been serious, the gear was low and unreliable. Poor Molly couldn’t see any holds to help me out and was having kittens while belaying me.
Powder: What are some future goals?
Dufton: Top of my list would be to on-sight, I usually call it non-sight, an undisputed E3. As mentioned, I’ve done three routes that are on the E2/E3 border, but I’m hard on myself and don’t really feel like I’ve made the grade until I have an undisputed one on my CV. In the medium term I’d like to be regularly on-sighting 7a sport routes, this will require a good training block over winter, I’ve struggled to get any consistency this year due to a bad shoulder injury. Also, I’d like to find time to redpoint some sport routes. Currently the hardest redpoint I’ve done is 7a, but I subsequently on-sighted a 7a, so I’m sure I could redpoint harder if I invested some time into redpointing. In winter, there is a big ice route that I saw a picture of before I lost my sight, it would be amazing to get my ice climbing to the standard where I could lead it. Lastly, I already have first ascents in the Arctic, probably the only blind person that has. It would be amazing to climb in Antarctica and if I could get a first ascent there as well it would be incredible. If I could only find a way of putting the money for such a trip together.
Powder: How old are you?
Dufton: Currently 38
Powder: What do you do for a living?
Dufton: Apparently, I have a ‘big boy job’, I work for a firm that makes hydrogen fuel cells, a form of clean energy technology that can be used for a range of applications including cars, airplanes, backup power, drones etc. I look after their intellectual property, managing patents and Trade Secrets. I’m the bridge between the engineers and the lawyers. It’s interesting work at the bleeding edge of technology. Hopefully, the products I’ve contributed to will help to fully decarbonise society.
Powder: Where do you live?
Dufton: I live in Loughborough. Work is based on the science park of Loughborough University. It’s an hours drive to the nearest gritstone crags in the Peak District.
Powder: What else should people know about you?
Dufton: I work as a public speaker alongside my intellectual property work. The film Climbing Blind which documents me climbing The Old Man of Hoy is available online including Amazon Prime. I’m part of the GB Paraclimbing team and compete internationally. Before I focused on my climbing, I practiced Brazilian Ju Jitsu to a reasonable standard. I’m a good skier and hope to have some more ski-based adventures in future. I taught Molly to ski, she has the dubious accolade of being taught to ski by a blind person.
Powder: Good stuff, Jesse. Good luck with everything.
Photos courtesy of @britrockfilms.
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