These areas were alive with birdlife, sedges and the deep cultural knowledge and stories of the Wurundjeri and Bunurong people. They understood that water was not just a resource, but a force that shaped the landscape.

A city built on a swamp

Melbourne’s earliest surveyors noticed the swamp immediately.

In 1803, Charles Grimes, one of the earliest Europeans to document the area, wrote of his journey up the Yarra River: “Saw a large lagoon at a distance. Went over the hill to a large swamp.” He also observed flood debris lodged high up in the trees – an early warning of the Yarra River’s temperament.

Early maps labelled the land west of Melbourne as “a saltwater lake”. It was later known as Batman’s Swamp, and then West Melbourne Swamp. At the time, this waterbody sprawled across what is now West Melbourne, Docklands, South Kensington and parts of North Melbourne.

South of the river, the wetlands and swampy areas stretched across what is now South Melbourne, Port Melbourne and Southbank. Albert Park Lake is one of the few surviving hints of the vast marshland and waterbodies that once were alive with swans and fish.

Further outside of Melbourne, the Carrum Carrum Swamp extended from Mordialloc to Frankston: a massive wetland system draining the Dandenong Creek catchment into Port Phillip Bay. Similar landscapes existed in the west, with Altona, Williamstown and Newport having low-lying salt marsh environments. Even the suburb of Elwood, today lined with palm trees and trendy cafes, was once a tidal flat that flooded so regularly it was described by early settlers as “almost impassable in winter”.

For Melbourne’s early settlers, originally lured by dreams of gold, the waterlogged land soon became a barrier to farming. Their solution was simple: drain it; reclaim it; build on it.

Melbourne’s first engineering ambitions

The logic of the era was clear: wetlands were a “waste” unless they could be farmed or built upon. Swamps were excavated, filled with rubbish or plugged with early earthen drains.

By the late 1800s, the West Melbourne Swamp had become the city’s dumping ground. A stew of offal, animal carcasses and industrial waste had made its way down the Yarra River and settled into the swamp.

In 1873, a Royal Commission into low-lying lands was set up to resolve the issue. They called it “injurious to health, a disgrace to the city”. A solution arrived in 1880 to straighten the Yarra River. Engineers carved the Coode Canal through the river to accelerate drainage, and deepen the river to allow larger ships to access the city.

The spoil from the huge engineering project created Coode Island, now home to fuel depots and freight infrastructure. Similar works raised roads, cut new channels and slowly erased the swamp from public memory. Even the road to the swamp, originally named Swamp Road, was later renamed to Dynon Road.

But water has a long memory.

When forgotten creeks roar back to life

Over the decades, the network of small gullies and creeks that fed wetlands and swamps were buried. Streets were built over the top of them, subdivisions mapped across floodplains, and drainage channels cut through former wetlands.

These ghost waterways lay dormant, until heavy rain and extreme storms forced them back into view.

The great flood in 1891 caused the Yarra River to swell to 305 metres wide. It is still considered the most significant flood in Melbourne’s recorded history – causing thousands of people to leave their homes and at least one death. Despite this, many large and noxious industries like abattoirs, tanneries and breweries still settled along the Yarra River, in places like Alphington, Abbotsford and Richmond.

They were continually threatened by flooding, but the land offered cheap rent, a free water supply and a cheap method of waste disposal. Housing for the working class grew around these industries, allowing workers to live within walking distance of their jobs.

Another significant flood hit Melbourne in 1934, leaving its mark on the city. Over 350mm of rain fell across the Yarra catchment, resulting in 35 deaths, 3,000 people homeless and entire suburbs becoming lakes. This flood set the development line for many suburbs along the Yarra River, which still informs planning and development decisions today. This is one of the reasons why Melbourne, unlike Brisbane and Sydney, has few homes directly on floodplains.

This legacy led to a powerful realisation: you cannot engineer your way out of water without respecting where it wants to go. Modern flood mapping projects show that while rivers and creeks may no longer be visible, the topography remains. Water will always find its way along these ghost waterways.