WHAT PRICE ICE? : CLIMBERS CONTINUE TO PUSH LIMITS, RISKING LIFE AND LIMB, SIMPLY FOR THE THRILL OF SCALINNEW HEIGHTS AND CONQUERING MAMMOTH, FROZEN WATERFALLS.

Byline: BRETT PAULY

A Mammoth Mountain ski patroller fell to his death last winter during what would have been a first ascent on a frozen waterfall at June Lake.

A girlfriend broke both legs when the spikes of her boots caught the ice during another spill.

Yet Mimi McDougall maintains an air of invincibility about her ice-climbing exploits. Perhaps it's denial. Perhaps she's that good. But the threat of injury or death doesn't enter her mind when she's looking skyward at 500 feet of a solid cascade.

``You understand the risks, but you still go out,'' said the 27-year-old climber who works in the summer mountain-guiding near her home in Mammoth Lakes. ``Everybody in the back of their minds says, `It's not going to happen to me.' ''

In a diversion that might be in infancy despite a long history, climbers go to almost any length to find new ice.

``As the levels keep getting pushed, inherently more risks will be taken,'' McDougall said. ``The good ones will know when to say no.''

Indeed, when danger becomes second nature, it's the ice climber with the courage to walk away when conditions don't look right who will live to scale new heights another day.

The elite recreation of ice climbing has received more exposure in the last couple of months than the last couple of centuries.

National Geographic recently published a brief history and a first-person account of the activity, and Outside magazine printed a story about how Colorado's ice-climbing guru Jeff Lowe would attempt to bring his passion to the masses via man-made, refrigerated monoliths and ESPN's Winter X Games. Then there were the made-for-TV Games themselves, which aired early this month from Big Bear Lake.

Instant replays of ice-ax placements seem light years away from ice climbing's beginnings in the Alps in the late 1700s. A century later, climbers were still employing woodchoppers' axes to carve their routes.

It has evolved rapidly since the 1960s, thanks largely to Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia clothing who National Geographic dubbed ``the dean of modern ice climbing.'' In 1966 he introduced an ax with a curved pick to give better support on the slick and impossibly steep surfaces that define ice climbing.

Despite all the recent hoopla, many ice climbers believe that their love will remain popular only among the hard-core few who ascend frozen waterfalls until their mastery of Mother Nature is perfected.

``It might disappear back into itself. It's not nearly as accessible as indoor climbing,'' said Mike Dahlberg of Minneapolis, who, at age 45 and considered by his younger counterparts ``just this side of retirement,'' managed to place second in the difficulty finals at the X Games.

McDougall, who finished fourth in the women's event, echoed the sentiment: ``I think it will go back into the remoteness because of the unavailability of ice to most of the people. There is just not as much ice as there is rock.''

A closer look at some of the key players reveals that many ice climbers would rather see their hobby remain purely natural and artistic, rather than a burgeoning sport with clamoring audiences that expect thrill-a-second action.

``It's not ice climbing. It's TV,'' said Bozeman, Mont., iceman Alex Lowe during the X Games.

Yet, it's the lure of prize money and name recognition that draws those same athletes to contests of derring-do.

``It isn't a competitive sport for me; it's still aesthetic. The point for me is to do something really hard in a beautiful place,'' said Stevie Haston, a renowned climber from France who traveled to the X Games. ``But, unfortunately, I have to earn my money out of it, so I have to compete.''

Haston hopes ice climbing will gain larger appeal through the growth in adventure films and instructional classes. But he realizes the new sport (he said perhaps only two dozen world-class contests have ever been staged) might be a necessary evil.

``Historically, it was not a competitive sport, and I'd kind of prefer it to stay that way. However, the modern pressures on all of us will probably dictate that if it is to reach the masses it will have to become a competitive sport,'' he said.

Given that, Haston and fellow climber Ezio Marlier of Aosta, Italy - both of whom are Alpine guides on Mont Blanc - make contacts on their travels to competitions so that other climbers may follow them to Europe to pay for their guided journeys.

It's all part of a vicious cycle for hard-core ice climbers. There's little time to work if you're climbing full time, but to travel to contests or to find new ice takes loads of money. Thus necessitates the guiding and competitions but only if it doesn't interfere with climbing.

Minnesota ice climber Dahlberg said that these extremists make up the smallest portion of the climbing population. Two larger segments are represented by those who field jobs in the outdoors industry and plan weeks-long trips each year, and those who have ``regular jobs'' outside the business who are weekend climbers.

What they all share is passion, a strong sense of judgment and the ability to back down from potential danger.

``It actually takes more courage to walk away from a climb than forging on,'' Dahlberg said. ``The right thing to do is to come back stronger. That is standard for the elite climbers; they were conservative and they survived.''

He eloquently describes the tactile feeling of ice climbing:

``It's very satisfying when you swing a tool and get feedback from the placement. It talks to you. You get this very rewarding thud, like hitting a tennis ball right in the sweet spot on the racket. Anybody who has been climbing for more than a few days gets hooked on that.

``I'm not claiming it's a physical addiction, but you do crave it. It's very primal, like having a full stomach.''

Italian mountain man Marlier maintains that ice climbing is a metaphor for life.

``You must utilize the hand and the foot, but the most important (thing) is the mind. You must think,'' he said in strained English. `And the rope is vitality, it is energy. It is a lifeline between me and my friends.''

Stevie Haston Profile

Age: 39.

Years climbing ice: 25.

Residence: Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, France.

Trademark: Climbs sans gloves.

``Ice climbers normally use gloves because smacking a piece of ice is like smacking a piece of concrete, so your knuckles tend to split. It's just that I'm so clumsy that if I put gloves on I can't work the axes and the rope and stuff, so I'll deal with a bit of cuts.''

Milestones: Climbed the Eiger in Switzerland when he was 20; put the first ice-climbing routes up the frozen waterfall Nuit Blanche near Chamonix-Mont-Blanc and several others in France, Italy and Switzerland.

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos, Box

Photo: (1--color) Ice climber Mimi McDougall digs in during the speed prelims at the recent Winter X Games at Snow Summit.

Myung J. Chun / Daily News

(2--color) no caption (Stevie Haston)

Brett Pauly/Daily News

(3) At Snow Summit, ice climbers ascend frozen waterfalls during the women's speed competition at ESPN's recent Winter X Games.

Myung J. Chun / Daily News

Box: STEVIE HASTON PROFILE (see text)