The Baldwin Steps are a relic of movement—not just physical ascent, but social and urban transformation. The hill they climb is part of the ancient shoreline of Lake Iroquois, a glacial lake that predates Lake Ontario by millennia. When the ice retreated and the lake shrank, it left behind a dramatic rise in the land—a natural bluff known as the Davenport Escarpment. For Indigenous peoples, it was a pathway. For early settlers, it was an obstacle. And for a city growing northward, it was a challenge to conquer.
In the late 19th century, as Toronto expanded beyond its original waterfront core, developers and streetcar lines began to push into the northern hills. The land above the escarpment became desirable—higher, cooler, removed from the smoke and stench of the industrial south. Among those to make the climb was Robert Baldwin, a reform-minded politician and one of the fathers of responsible government in Canada. His family owned land in the area, and the steps came to bear his name. Whether Baldwin himself trudged up them in frock coat and cravat is anyone’s guess, but the association stuck.
The original steps were wooden, and like many of Toronto’s earliest structures, they didn’t age well. By the 1910s, the city had replaced them with concrete and later with the handsome stone version that still exists today. They’ve been restored and regraded over the years, but their purpose remains the same: a pedestrian link between two very different layers of Toronto—topographical and social.
At the top: Casa Loma, Toronto’s faux-castle fantasy built by financier Sir Henry Pellatt. A symbol of ambition, wealth, and overreach—it looms with storybook grandeur and bankruptcy all in one.
At the bottom: the Annex, a vibrant and eclectic neighborhood full of students, academics, artists, and older homes that wear their Victorian heritage a little more humbly.
The Baldwin Steps are the bridge between.
They’re not flashy. They’re not even especially easy. Walk them on a humid day and you’ll feel every era of the city pressing into your knees. But they’re democratic. Free. Always open. A staircase for runners, tourists, strollers, and wanderers alike.
From the top, the view is modest but meaningful. The towers of downtown peek through the trees. The city breathes in layers. And if you stand still long enough, you might hear the echo of horses’ hooves from a century past—or the low, modern rhythm of a jogger’s steps tracing a path worn over centuries.
It’s easy to overlook them. But like much in Toronto, the Baldwin Steps reward those who pay attention. They remind you that elevation isn’t just about height—it’s about history. And sometimes, the fastest way to understand a place is to take the long way up.