A topic not often broached among urbexers, unless in bragging of its disregard, is danger. Now, I’m not trying to present us as brave adventurers á la Indiana Jones, but we do face risks. Nothing exemplifies these risks better than stairs. We do try to be careful; some flights we will only take one person at a time, others are felt out a step at a time with a tripod. These little cautions are really rudimentary; one can only hope that one doesn’t follow in the footsteps of Richard Nickel, the godfather of modern urban explorers, who died when a portion of the building he was photographing collapsed onto him. So it is that we each choose one of the three paths when confronting our risks: fate, faith, or fatalism. None are particularly efficacious at warding off imminent catastrophic structural failure, but are the crutches we use to be able to climb those stairs nevertheless. Ultimately, the only practical advice to be given on the subject of climbing that last flight of stairs is: don’t look down.