The transformation of Elizabeth Street
As the clock ticked towards 4pm, the skies darkened ominously. Within moments, a torrential downpour unleashed its fury. Over the course of one hour, a record-breaking 76mm of rain battered the heart of Melbourne. It transformed streets into rivers, creating chaos that would be seared into the city’s memory.
Elizabeth Street, an artery of Melbourne’s CBD, bore the brunt of the storm’s wrath. What people had forgotten – or never knew – was that Elizabeth Street’s origins lay in water. Once a natural creek known as Williams Creek, its subterranean history came roaring back to life.
A spectacle both tragic and surreal
As water surged down from the surrounding streets, a raging river awoke. Fast-flowing floodwaters swelled to depths of 1.5 metres, submerging cars, sweeping pedestrians off their feet, and bringing the city to a standstill. The storm had unleashed one of the worst traffic jams the city had ever seen.
The spectacle was equal parts tragic and surreal:
- Waves crashed over parking meters as whitecaps formed on Elizabeth Street’s “river”
- Holdens and Fords bobbed like toys, turned about by the force of the currents
- Trams stood paralysed, marooned amidst floating vehicles and debris
- Police officers waded into the torrent, trousers rolled up to their knees
- A man sprinted frantically in his underpants, determined to retrieve his floating car
- A box of bananas from a nearby fruit shop bobbed downstream towards Flinders Street Station, carried by the torrent.
By 4.45 pm, the scene had evolved into a picture of utter mayhem. Drenched city workers and shoppers sought refuge on park benches and in doorways. Train and tram services ground to a halt, leaving commuters stranded.
A trail of destruction
As the rain eased into a drizzle after 5.30pm, the floodwaters receded. But they left a trail of destruction in their wake.
Abandoned cars littered the streets, rubbish lay strewn across intersections, and shopkeepers began the arduous task of salvaging stock and mopping up the deluge that had invaded their stores. The financial cost was staggering, with damages running into hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Yet, amid the devastation, Melburnians found their characteristic humour. Pubs and hotels filled with soggy shoppers and workers who had sought refuge during the storm – and then stayed to share tales over drinks, trying to dry off and laugh at the absurdity of cars floating down the city’s main streets.
A spokesperson from the Weather Bureau downplayed the event, describing it as “an ordinary but intense thunderstorm”. But to those who experienced it, the day was anything but ordinary. The forgotten Williams Creek had made its dramatic return, reminding the city of its natural origins and the power of water to reclaim its path.
