I spent several winters snow camping, going into California's Sierra Nevada on skis, and adored it, but I'm afraid of heights and never gave climbing the briefest consideration. The lure was impossible to grasp. (Women climb a different life-and-death peek in childbirth.) But I love survival stories, and this went further to explain risk-taking than anything I've encountered. Simpson's honesty about fear makes it a spellbinding spiritual epic. He attempts the same route that his inspiration as a lad had failed to complete, and in his narration uses language with the same care as his climbing gear. I get it now. Or maybe I don't - but listening tuo a man who uses English with such power is not a voice I'll soon forget. It's a love story between man and mountain, the bond forged among climbing partners, conquering fear yet knowing when to stop; the awe of death and the horror of loneliness.... I'm so glad he followed his considerable wisdom to find a route off his inner mountain into another rewarding career, He's at the top of his game - as a writer this time, expressing his experiences of loss and grief and passion for life without a drop of sentimentality. It's poetic exactness with Shakespearean depth.

(N.B. Improvement in the directing could (will?) make it one of the great documentaries. I wasn't sure at times which team we were following (a helicopter in the 1930's?).and something as simple as a notice saying "50 years later" would have helped. Or I was just being a moron! :o)