Matthew and Vivien Dwyer's Baldwin St home has been featured in numerous international publications. Photo / Ben Tomsett
What is it like living on the world’s steepest street? Herald journalist Ben Tomsett visited the residents of Baldwin St, Dunedin to find out.
It is a quiet place, early in the morning.
The wind bites sharply off the hill as the morning sun illuminates the west-facing stone and timber houses.
Soon, the first busload of cruise ship passengers arrives and the world’s steepest street is dotted with people huffing and puffing their way up.
Baldwin St, in Dunedin’s North East Valley, is famed as the world’s steepest residential street.
Its gradient reaches a challenging 35%, with every 2.86m travelled horizontally corresponding to a 1m elevation gain.
The incline is the result of 19th-century urban planning that imposed a grid layout without considering the area’s challenging terrain.
The street was recognised as the world’s steepest street by the Guinness Book of Records 1987, beating out two competing streets in San Francisco which had previously held the title.
In 2019, it briefly lost the title to Welsh street Ffordd Pen Llech, which has a gradient of 37.45% – though the title was returned to the southern city after an appeal by Dunedin residents led to Guinness deciding the steepness of the street must be based on the central axis.
Amid the steady stream of visitors, Baldwin St is a patchwork of rental flats, cosy bed and breakfasts, and homes still lived in by families who’ve been there for decades.
Tending to her garden boxes at 9am, Linda Huggins gestures toward the rising sun over Mt Cargill when asked what she loves most about her home.
She has lived on the steeper end of Baldwin St for nearly 30 years.
“I’ve worked really long hours for a long time in cafes and things, and it’s only since I stopped working as much three years ago that I kind of rediscovered what home meant,” she says.
“It’s a different thing when you’re working, everything about your life is kind of focused outwards.
“I had neglected the garden for years because I was working, and in December last year, I made a decision to make it able to be lived in, for me, for the future.”
She says the constant foot traffic outside her window doesn’t bother her, though she recalls some incidents, especially before the pandemic, primarily driven by locals.
“Before lockdown, kids used to test cars that they were wanting to buy, drive up here in their dad’s car and then just get stuck. Didn’t have enough experience.
“For me, it’s just kind of cool that there are busloads of people who actually get off a bus and move.”
When Baldwin St temporarily lost its title to a Welsh street in 2019, it barely registered with her.
“I don’t care. Except, I did see a YouTube clip and I felt just a little rising indignation. But you know, that’s just being parochial, and that’s a healthy-ish kind of thing anyway,” Huggins says.
Her entrance is off a side street, so she rarely has to drive up the hill. “If it’s snowing, I walk to work ... I use those Yaktrax things and I can just walk down like Superwoman,” she says.
“There’s a huge amount of history and connection, and if you mention to someone that you come from here, they’ve always got an old uncle or someone who has lived here for maybe like 30 or 40 years.
“Also, look at the view. It’s a stunning view.”
Matthew and Vivien Dwyer have lived on Baldwin St for about 20 years.
When approached by the Herald, Matthew was sitting outside polishing an agate he had pulled from a local swamp.
Self-described rockhounds, the Dwyers have opened their home as a geological museum for visitors.
“Over the years, our house has been featured on German and Chinese TV, in a car commercial, and on Netflix. There was an Australian travel show here the same week as Netflix, and we’ve had both famous and non-famous YouTubers come through, plus, quite possibly, millions of tourists,” says Matthew.
Their home was recently featured on the Dunedin edition of Monopoly, though they missed out on a free copy – “which I was a bit annoyed about”.
Vivien recalls counting 13 full-size tour buses at the bottom of the street before the pandemic.
“It’s not back to that level yet, though it’s getting closer again. Today’s the last day of the cruise ship season, so the numbers will drop off for a while.”
Matthew has started learning Mandarin to communicate with many of the visitors.
“I can say things like ‘Welcome to Baldwin St’ and ‘Welcome to the world’s steepest street’. I’ve got a map of China and one of the rest of the world on display for people to pin their hometowns – but I need to get a Europe one too. That part of the world’s starting to look like a pincushion.”
Lynette and Ray Short have lived on Baldwin St for nearly 60 years – since before the steepest part was concreted – and may well be the longest-serving residents.
Ray recalls the particularly harsh winters when they first moved in. “It’s not as bad as it used to be. In the winter, all the pipes would freeze. I’d come home from work at 5 at night, and the footpath would still be icy. It’d be like walking on glass.”
He describes heavy snowfalls that sometimes blanketed the street and covered the entire road.
When they first arrived, the steeper part of the street was gravel, and taxis couldn’t make it up the hill.
“28 Baldwin St was where the taxis would drop people off. They just couldn’t get up,” Ray laughs.
“A carrier truck come here one day, and I said to him ‘how are you going to get up there?’ He said, ‘you watch’. He turns the truck around, there was a concrete gutter each side, and he put the wheels in the gutter and backed up using the gutter.”
Living on Baldwin St, with its gradient and tourist popularity, comes with challenges, especially regarding traffic and visitors.
They agree there has been some difficulty of navigating the street when tourists aren’t always mindful of their surroundings, or when events limited access to their home.
During the setup for the annual Cadbury Jaffa Race, Ray once found himself in a standoff with a traffic worker who was “a bit cross” about having to dismantle a barrier so Ray could turn into his own driveway.
“There’s a sign that says, ‘Authorised vehicles and residents only’, but they still bring campervans up here,” says Ray.
“Some even make it to the top!”
More recently, a group of tourists helped him with his garden.
“I was trying to get a stump out of the garden, and these two young men came along and offered to help. I said, ‘I’ll be alright’, but they insisted. It was nice,” he says.
“It’s a beautiful place to live, but it’s not for everyone.
“We’ve seen a lot of changes, but we love it here. Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
Maya, who moved to Baldwin St in 2009, says the street’s global appeal is one of its unique charms.
“It is interesting because people from all over the world come here. I’m a language teacher, I teach Māori, and I’m also trying to learn Spanish at the moment, so I really enjoy hearing different languages.
“One time, I recognised the lead singer from the Japanese band Guitar Wolf. I was out gardening, and I called him over. We had a chat with him and his bandmate. We even got a selfie together.”
Maya acknowledges that Baldwin St is not for those seeking peace and quiet.
“If you’re looking for somewhere peaceful and quiet, though, that’s not the street you want to live on.”
She recalls the days when engineering students would drive up Baldwin St in quirky cars as part of a competition.
“I remember watching a Batmobile try to get up the hill three times. It made it halfway, but then the car just wouldn’t go any further.
“I’ve seen everything from drunk students dressed in 70s gear on roller skates to young guys snowboarding down the street when there’s snow on the ground.”
Ian Dougherty, who sells his book about Baldwin St to tourists, describes the street’s wild history.
“It includes the history of Baldwin St, but also the crazy ways people have gone up and down, and the reaction of locals,” he says.
Dougherty recalls a tragic incident in 2001 when two university students tried to ride a wheelie bin down the street.
The students crashed into a parked trailer – one of them died instantly, while the other suffered serious head injuries.
He also shares lighter stories, such as a man who tried to ride a penny-farthing bicycle up the hill.
“He got a wee way up, not very far,” Dougherty laughs.
Dougherty estimates that 100,000 tourists attempt the climb annually.
“It’s really become a part of Dunedin’s identity. The street’s steep, it’s challenging, and it’s just full of stories.”
Ben Tomsett is a Multimedia Journalist for the Herald, based in Dunedin.
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