Troedrhiwfuwch Memories
The History
Built around 1854-1858 Sebastopol was a small group of terraced cottages, a pub and farm, located a short distance east of Troedrhiwfuwch between the Rhymney railway and the Rhymney river. Probably named after The siege of Sevastopol (Sebastopol in English) that lasted from October 1854 until September 1855, during the Crimean War.
Records shows the Sebastopol Arms was up and running in August 1858 where a band from Tredegar attended for the establishment of an Odd Fellow Lodge. Daniel Smedley made an application in August 1859 to renew his licence. This application was made at the general annual licensing meeting, for granting licences for keeping inns, ale houses and victualling houses. His licence was refused upon the grounds that he was in close proximity to public houses already licenced. The licence was eventually renewed.
The pub closed December 1912 with an application submitted on the 22nd of April 1913 to covert the pub into 2 cottages. Troedrhiwfuwch Halt was accessed in Sebastopol. The Halt was only open to the public for a few years, it was essentially built for the transportation of coal. This station stood between, what is now, Pontlottyn & Tirphil. On February 21st 1910, Troedrhiwfuwch Halt was closed.
A report from the Board of Trade states -
"At Troedrhiwfuwch only one ramp is provided and passengers have to cross the
lines to the Down Platform, but there is a pretty good view in each direction.
The platforms are 52 feet 6 inches long, 9 feet wide and 3 feet above rail level.
These platforms are all made of old sleepers and are rather rough, but the company say
that if better ones were required, they could not erect them at all.
Good lighting arrangements and nameboards are provided. The only requirement
is for the names also to be added to the platform lamps.
Subject to this being done, I can recommend the Board of Trade to sanction the
use of these platforms for motor car traffic only."
Lt Colonel Druitt RE
Roger Jones
It was my childhood dream place and I still go there in my mind. I lived in number 2 Pleasant View until 1963. My bedroom was above the door and when I was 11 years old we moved but I stayed there on my own for a week. Dave Jones next door made sure I was ok.
Troedrhiwfuwch and Sebastopol is a magical place for all who lived there because there is no other like it.
Emma Williams
My dad, Dai Salter, was born in Sebastopol. On his birth certificate his place of birth is number 1 . He only lived there until he was about 6 I think and when it got knocked down he moved up to Troedy. I used to tease him he was a jinx for places that got knocked down
Gloria Griffiths
I remember my uncle Trevor taking me down to Sebastopol, crossing the stream to collect water cress. There were a few empty houses. It was a good adventure.
Paul Pugh
I remember my father taking me down Sebastopol when I was little to collect water cress out of the stream below the houses. There was still people living down there in the late 60s or early 7Os. I can remember Dai and Doreen Davies and their 7 sons. I can also remember Colin Sullivan playing in the hay barn and jumping out and catching his arm on a nail and bleeding … that was the end of play that day.
Bernadette Cooper
My Uncle Will used to tell me that his grandparents lived in Sebastopol, they lived No 10 His grandparents were William and Gwenllian Morgan ,they lived there with their 4 sons Thomas, David (my great grandfather), John and Lewis.
Jeff Blunt
When the football team was going we'd change in the school and walk down under the arch sometimes over the railway line over the green bridge to the field. It was ok going down heck of climb going back up after the game to share a tin bath. Happy days
A Geographical Nightmare
A WELSH LANDSLIDE.
TWO VILLAGES IN PERIL.
Villagers in the Rhymney Valley, on the Glamorgan and Monmouthshire border, are again alarmed over & threatened renewal of the landslide, which did considerable mischief in the New Tredegar district some months ago. On that occasion some colliery surface buildings were swept away, several isolated cottages demolished, and a main road broken up. Several years ago, the Rhymney Railway Company had to alter the course of their main Line in order to protect their property. The origin of these recurring disturbances is a quicksand in the underlying strata. In the bed of the valley on the Monmouthshire side of the river two large fields have sunk, and small lakes have formed in the depressions. There is a gaping fissure in the mountain above the hamlet of Troedrhiwfuwch, and this is the secret of the immediate danger.
The new schools at this hamlet, built about three years ago, hare some ugly cracks in the walls, and wide apertures are forming in the boundary wall. Most serious of all however, is the news that the bridge at the village of Sebastopol under which the Rhymney railway passes and which is practically a new structure, is becoming seriously affected. The buttresses are either sinking down or the line is being gradually forced up, for the headroom is becoming less. For the past month it has been noticed that trains slacken speed when approaching this spot and the explanation is now given that a man is kept on duty day and night to measure the headroom and signal “All’s Well” to the engine drivers. From this it will be gathered that the railway authorities are apprehensive as to a sudden disturbance. A blocking or breaking of the line there would not only break off communication with the upper end of the valley but would paralyse the mining and other industries. Other telegrams received last night state that the inhabitants of the village of Sebastopol and Troedrhiwfuwch, which is situated higher up the mountainside, are in dread of their homes being removed bodily down the mountain. During the past few days there have been indications on the Rhymney Railway that the permanent way is being forced out of position.
Sometime ago the Railway Company spent a considerable amount of money in building retaining walls on the mountain side of the line, but these have now been forced to within a few inches of the passing trains. Both villages are upon an extremely steep gradient, and almost overhanging Troedrhiwfuwch there are a number of huge rocks. A small reservoir of water has developed such serious leakages that the supply of water to the village has failed. The local council's main sewer, which runs along the hillside, has also suffered damage.
Birmingham Mail - Friday 16 February 1906
NATURE’S SPASMS.
A Review of the Landslip.
If Mahommed won't go to the mountain, says an old age, the mountain must go to Mahommed, and the world-wide aphorism appears to be coming more true every day, judging by the latest developments in the neighbourhood of Troedrhiwfuwch, which geologically and geographically, as most people in Wales know, lies about midway between Pontlottyn and New Tredegar. The first intimation to the public came from members of the Gelligaer District Council, the subject being discussed outside the ordinary business.
The gravity of the situation could not be concealed, for, judging from the remarks of Mr. James Jones, the Council's surveyor, science was absolutely baffled. The following day I decided to see what I could see. Journeying up the valley by train, I was not aware of anything unusual until I had reached the vicinity of the supposed landslip. Here a shriek of iron steel brought every head to the windows, and necks were craned in an attempt to view the surroundings. My heart sank within me for a moment, as we were slowly passing under the now far-famed Sebastopol bridge. And what a sight greeted my eye! A distorted pillar of the bridge seemed in agony with the strain upon its back, and close beside it a natural platform had found its way through the overwhelming pressure of the soil from the bank. In forming itself this platform had actually heaved a tremendous retaining wall forward. As our train cleared the spot I glanced to the rear and was startled to see half-a-dozen men scamper across the line with picks and shovels and commence packing the rails, I breathed more freely as I stepped out at Pontlottyn and retraced my way by means of the road. Reaching a point about a quarter of a mile from Troedrhiwfuwch I noticed a couple of platelayers engaged in a curious performance. In Indian file they paraded the line at a slow pace, every now and again stopping to closely examine something that caught their gaze then joining each other to consult on the subject.
I entered the little wayside inn and was invited to prospect the premises. There was little to interest me until we came to the garden. The landlord, Mr. W. J. James, then informed me that the steep bank on which we stood was once on a level with the house, I moved with alacrity to a safer point of vantage and scanned the destruction. The garden was about forty yards square in extent and was once enclosed by a corrugated iron fencing. Now, a different complexion was seen, for the sheets had followed the travels of the earth and the wooden supports were torn asunder in many parts. That fencing cost me £50, explained the landlord, with regret. My garden was once the best in the valley, and even up to last summer I could grow almost anything in it. Just to give you an idea of how the earth has sunk, I had 145 loads of ballast from Mr. Tom Taylor when he was laying down the pipe track, and I tried to level the garden up with it, but if you look now, you can't find a trace of it. Even the stable I had there has disappeared almost entirely! I left the public house and wended my way to Sebastopol. The sight was extra-ordinary. Houses of mean appearance had been twisted into veritable hovels. Doors, windows, and walls had all squirmed, but what passed my comprehension was the fact that the occupiers viewed the happening serenely. It was astounding.
As to the cause of this wonderful freak of Nature it is hard, yet, impossible, to speak with certainty. Quicksand and mining theories have both been put forward, but these appear to have been ousted by a thoughtful article which appeared in the Western Mail from the pen of Professor W. S. Boulton, of Cardiff University.
Bargoed Journal - Thursday 22 February 1906
A Sebastopol Family's Moonlight Flit
At Sebastopol we found that No. 12, … was now deserted. The late tenant it seems, made the most unpleasant exit some three weeks ago. In the dead of night, a quantity of masonry fell on the bed, and the wife had a narrow escape. The result was a hurried “moonlight flit,” and refuge was found at No. 4. When we entered No. 12, it was with the intention to take a photograph of the upper portion of the cottage, but we abandoned the idea, for the stairs gave way beneath our feet.
To add to the experiences of the inhabitants, the water supplies have been crippled, and the commodity has to be carried from the Devil's Bridge, about half-a-mile away. The gas supply at Troedrhiwfuwch once more failed on Friday night, and the defect in the main is assumed to have been again caused by the restlessness of the soil.
Western Mail - Monday 07 May 1906
Pleasant View
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What a treat to find out that Sebastopol was not just a farm where we would often walk down to from Troedy to collect milk. The milk was creamy, untreated hot and straight from the cow. We often played under the railway bridge up in the gantry……so dangerous but to young people so adventurous. I often remember collecting wild flowers from the field in front of the farm house with great affection. Now in my mid 80s I look back on my youth with thankfulness for the joy of the village life, the mountain which at the time we were unaware of its instability, the ferns that grew so high, the whimberry picking that ended with tarts that have never been surpassed for their delicious taste.
Doreen’s shop window at Christmas….I still see in my mind’s eye the cotton wool snowman that I so desired but never got. I with all the other people who were born and brought up in Troedrhiwfuwch have so much to be thankful for. Loving memories of people and events and magical moments like lying in the long grass at the top of the mountain watching a bird (whose nest in the grass you have inadvertently neared) hovers around trying to get you back to your task of collecting the whimberries in the jam jar.