Hunting London's lost rivers — and nearly drowning in the Fleet

Times

28-05-2025

Every time I walk down Farringdon Road, I think about the time I nearly drowned.
It was my own stupid fault.
I am fascinated by London's lost rivers, the most formidable of which is the Fleet, which flowed from Hampstead to Blackfriars through King's Cross. This was once a major river flanked by mills and warehouses, but as it became increasingly stagnant, it was hidden away like an embarrassing relative and used as overflow for the sewer. And into this dark and putrid tunnel I descended one sunny afternoon, cheerfully defying the law in the company of two total strangers.
It was all good fun for the first hour, when the water level began to rise ominously towards our waists. As we found ourselves flailing against a tide of filthy water, fat, floating rats and toilet paper, feet struggling to grip the slimy floor, I wondered: was this where it would end?
Obviously not, but it felt a close-run thing at the time. I was working for Time Outand while journalists sometimes get official access to London's river-sewers I was young and reckless, so had instead contacted a couple of urban explorers I found on the internet. These are people who break into abandoned locations — tunnels are popular — and take photos, ensuring always to leave things exactly as they find them. It was frighteningly easy to pop a manhole and access the Fleet; you can get anywhere with a hi-vis vest and a couple of traffic cones. And it was genuinely thrilling to admire the fine brickwork of this dead river unbeknown to the world above, the noise of which sporadically filtered down through the grates.
Unfortunately, on our way back somebody, somewhere, decided to flush excess water down the Fleet into the Thames — almost killing us.
There are, fortunately, easier ways to find London's buried rivers. The Fleet's upper stretches are very visible in the form of Hampstead and Highgate Ponds but it's the subterranean elements that most intrigue. This once great river can sometimes be heard rushing underneath the street from a manhole cover in the road opposite the Coach pub on Ray Street in Farringdon, and if the Thames is low, you can see where it tips into the river under Blackfriars Bridge. But the best perspective comes from Holborn Viaduct — stand on the bridge and look up Farringdon Street; you can clearly see the Fleet valley and its impact on London's topography.
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Also rising from the hills of Hampstead is the Westbourne, which passes through Sloane Square Tube station in an iron pipe, carried across the District Line in its eternal voyage towards the Thames. The Westbourne's finest moment came when it was dammed to form the Serpentine but this is now fed by other means, the Westbourne having been diverted into an underground sewer in 1813.
The last of the big three is the Tyburn, which starts in Hampstead and then runs down to Regent's Park, crossing the canal in a pipe built into a bridge. Shortly after, the Tyburn is rumoured to run in a channel through the garden of the home of the US ambassador — a glimpse of a lost London river that very few people will ever get to see. A good place to get a sense of the Tyburn is on the meandering Marylebone Lane, once an old riverside path. In Mayfair, Grays Antique Market claims its basement pond is part of the Tyburn, but this seems most unlikely. Imagine the smell!
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The Tyburn empties into the Thames directly opposite south London's great Effra. I once followed its meandering path — above ground this time, having learnt my lesson — in the company of a water diviner, who claimed she could detect buried water through some unspecified means involving a magical stick. The route her divining abilities took deviated wildly from what is known about the river, but it was raining at the time, so perhaps that interfered with the process. We did at least end at the correct point: alongside the MI6 building in Vauxhall.
The Effra starts life in Norwood before wandering through Herne Hill and Brixton towards the Thames. Like many lost rivers, you get hints of the old river in street names — Effra Road, Brixton Water Lane — while a series of rust-coloured manholes have been introduced to the pavement that plot the river's course: one example is opposite Brockwell Lido in Herne Hill. Created in 2016 by Atelier Works, these are one of the best — indeed, one of the only — examples of London acknowledging its lost rivers.
London has other buried rivers including the Walbrook in the City, Counter's Creek in west London and Bermondsey's fabulously named Neckinger, but it also has a buried canal. The Grand Surrey Canal once transported goods between Rotherhithe and Camberwell. It opened in 1810 but declined through the 20th century until, with breathtaking short-sightedness, it was filled with concrete in the 1970s.
Gone, then, but not quite forgotten, if you look in the right place.
The canal's basin is now Burgess Park, and its route can be seen in the rigidly straight canal-sized path that goes through the park from the Walworth Road towards Peckham. At one point, this path passes under a pleasant bridge with steel-lattice work painted bright red. The bridge was left behind when the canal was closed and now crosses the old towpath with joyful frivolity. Locals call it the Bridge to Nowhere. It's really a bridge to London's past and the waterways that still live beneath our feet.