In his own words, Jesse
Dufton, 34, explains the role that climbing has played in his life, from
family connection to meeting the love of his life, and overcoming all the odds
along the way.
I was born with a genetic
condition, retinitis pigmentosa, and, over the years, my eyesight gradually
deteriorated.
The best way to describe it is
like looking through a straw then cling film being layered over the end.
At school, I couldn’t read the
blackboard and I had to use a big magnifying glass for books.
By the time I got to university
in Bath to study Chemistry, it had got to the point where I couldn’t really see
images at all, only the difference between light and dark.
And a few years later, once I was
in the first year of my PhD, I was almost 100% blind.
When I was young I used to get
very angry if I encountered something I found difficult or couldn’t do because
of my eyes.
But over time I learned that
wasn’t a helpful response. There’s no point getting wound up by the fact I
can’t see, because it won’t change it.
I’m an only child. My mum was a
teacher and marriage guidance counsellor and my dad ran a charity, and they’ve
always encouraged and supported me in everything.
And technology is a blessing. For
example, text to speech is kind of a saviour. For my job, I’m a principle
patent engineer, looking at patent portfolios for tech companies. My computer
and my phone read text out to me. And I’ve got an app on my tablet which will
read out things like The New Scientist.
But, of course, my great passion
is climbing and there aren’t digital aids and solutions for that.
I started climbing when I was
young, my dad took me up my first rock route when I was two. All my early
climbing was outdoor traditional climbing, and bouldering in Fontainbleau,
France.
My dad had been in the Mountain
Rescue and was part of a mountaineering club, so we would go for weekends away
climbing throughout the UK.
He taught me everything I know
and I led my first route outside when I was 11. At this time I had about 20%
blurry central vision and no peripheral vision. I could just about see well
enough to place rock gear, but not well enough to pick out the routes from the
ground.
People are usually amazed when
they discover that not only do I climb, but I also lead climbs.
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‘Trad’ climbing is when you start
at the bottom, and as you climb up, you put the bits of gear into the cracks
and you loop the ropes through them as safety mechanisms, and you hope you
won’t fall off!
This is different to ‘sport’
climbing where someone has been up beforehand to drill metal bolts into the
rock that you can clip the rope through, rather than having to find a crack
yourself.
At university I joined the Mountaineering
Club and was able to climb much more frequently. We had regular trips to indoor
walls and weekends away outdoors. I developed a great circle of climbing
friends and went on multiple trips to Europe. On these I started Alpine
climbing and ice climbing too.
But when my sight dropped to a
level where I could no longer read, it started to be difficult to place gear as
I couldn’t see whether it was properly seated. I also stopped being able to pick
out the holds at indoor walls.
There was a time when I thought I
might have to give up leading as my eyesight got worse. But I never thought I
would stop climbing, I just learnt to adapt with the support of my friends.
People often ask me, ‘Why rock
climbing, it doesn’t seem like a good activity for a blind person?’
But when I think about the
danger, crossing the road is far more dangerous, and also it’s something where
I’m not in control.
It’s quite possible that I wouldn’t be as good a climber if I weren’t blind – if I didn’t have these challenges. It wouldn’t focus me. That determination is built through my disability.