Dunedin, Otepoti in Maori, capital of Otago province, has been occupied to a greater of lesser degree since around 1100 AD. The Maori population flourished in the 17th Century but most of their outposts and fortified settlements had been abandoned in the area by 1826. European settlement began at the start of the 19th century when first sealers, then later whalers based themselves in and around Otago Harbour; an ancient extinct volcano providing natural protection from the elements whilst the surrounding seas provided an abundance of marine life.
The real catalyst for the growth of this New World settlement was the arrival on March 23rd, 1848 of 97 settlers aboard the John Wickliffe and three weeks later another 247 settlers aboard the Philip Laing. After four turbulent months at sea these first 344 immigrants of mainly Scottish decent arrived in an area vastly different to the city of today. A few simple buildings were scattered near the shore whilst the mist covered forests of the steep volcanic hills ran right down to the sea. Rain set in to mark the start of one of the harshest winters that the local Maori could recall. Yet by May the area was a hive of activity as these first colonists set to with the clearing of the land and the establishment of their new city. By the end of that first year another 200 settlers had arrived with a further 500 the following year.

The discovery of sizeable deposits of gold in 1861 lead to the Otago Gold Rush which lasted through much of the 1860’s and at its peak in 1864 accounted for 18,000 miners being in the province, many of whom were of Chinese origin having travelled out from the now dwindling gold fields of Victoria in Australia and California. This was all good news for Dunedin which grew rapidly as a result and was for a time in the 19th Century New Zealand’s largest and most prosperous city. The University of Otago, the oldest university in New Zealand, was founded in Dunedin in 1869.

In the 1860s and 1870’s, before a hard recession in the 1880’s, Dunedin witnessed the construction of many new and grand buildings of both a municipal and ecclesiastical nature, many of which still stand. In fact it is often said by local people that not a lot has happened in Dunedin since this time, earning the city the title of one of the most perfectly preserved Victorian cities in the world. This era was also the time that many wealthy families had fine residential buildings constructed. One of the most influential architects of the day was New Zealand born Francis Petre. Petre is remembered mostly for three cathedrals he built in Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin as well as many private houses which are today some of the most sought after buildings in the country. In 1876 he built Cargill’s Castle, the specific destination of my recent visit to Dunedin.
Dunedin is home to both of New Zealand’s castles, both in reality more grand villa than genuine European style fortifications. Larnach Castle, privately owned but open to the public, sits on the Otago Peninsula 800 ft above sea level, enjoying panoramic views of the harbour, ocean and coastline. Under the guidance of local architect R.A. Lawson 200 workmen spent three years from 1873 building the Castle shell and master European craftsmen spent a further 12 years embellishing the interior. Another grand villa which delivers a striking castle-like atmosphere is Castlamore built by Petre in 1875, one year before Cargill’s Castle and was probably a source of inspiration for the latter. Castlamore appears as an imposing Gothic residence but is actually a light, airy and very restrained building, one of Dunedin’s finest early homes.

The site for Cargill’s Castle is spectacular, standing on a promontory, high above the city, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Built for Edward Cargill, son of one of the original city founders and later himself Mayor of Dunedin, who referred to his mansion as The Cliffs. Close to the castle is Tunnel Beach, so named because this quiet beach was only accessible through a steeply sloping tunnel cut into the 60-metre high cliffs by the Cargill family. The beach can now be reached via a public walking track, some six kilometres southwest of the city centre. While designing the house, Petre fell in love with Cargill’s daughter Margaret and after a difficult courtship (due to Petre’s staunch Catholicism and the Cargill family’s equally staunch Presbyterianism) the couple were eventually permitted to marry (and went on to have thirteen children), the marriage taking place in the villa’s principal salon shortly after its completion in 1877. In 1892 a fire badly damaged the castle, but it was repaired and extended, before again being largely destroyed by fire in 1940.

Today Cargill’s Castle is just a shell. But even as a ruin, it is an inspiring place, one of New Zealand’s most original buildings, with a special charm and majesty bigger perhaps than it deserves. In such an otherwise forward thinking place it’s hard to believe that no real effort has been made by the private sector or municipal authorities to restore the building. Plans have been made on several occasions to restore the building to its former glory, but none have yet borne fruit. Today a new road and subdivisions encroach, and the cliffs on the road up to it are gradually being covered with expensive and fairly tasteless new homes, access will soon disappear to this unique treasure and sadly a special place will be lost forever. However on the day I visited I was able to hop fences and make my way right up to, and into this fine building, without being accused of trespassing by the new residents of the area.

Dunedin has much charm and many activities to entertain visitors. A treasure-trove of fine architecture, a world-renowned albatross colony on the Otago Peninsula and the nearby yellow-eyed penguin colony, the southern hemisphere's only kilt shop, a now famous fashion week, wonderful institutions such as the Dunedin Public Art Gallery and The Otago Settlers Museum and much more. But of special interest, even if you won’t find it in the guidebooks, high above the city on the cliffs near to the St. Clair Golf Club sits the remnants of an overlooked gem of 19th Century Dunedin living. As I stared out through the empty windows, at the pounding waves of the Pacific and at the endless blue skies above, I was transported to a time long gone, and perhaps, soon to be forgotten.