Aberdare: Coal, memory and the fossil forests beneath
“If there is one type of man to whom I do feel myself inferior, it is a coal-miner.”
— George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
This article explores a single landscape – Aberdare – through three interlocking layers: the Carboniferous forests that formed the coal, the industrial system that extracted it, and the lives lived within that system. Each survives only in fragments: fossils weathering from shale, objects preserved in family memory, and traces embedded in the modern landscape. Taken together, these fragments allow the reconstruction of a place in which deep time, industry and lived experience are inseparable.
Return to Aberdare
Aberdare is no longer a coal town in any functional sense, yet the landscape still bears the imprint of the industry that once defined it. Pitheads have gone. Spoil tips have been reshaped, landscaped, absorbed by vegetation or erased altogether. Footpaths now follow alignments that were once tramways and mineral lines (Fig. 1). For a visitor returning after many years (as I did in March 2026), it is often the absences that are most striking.

What remains is a terrain that appears quieter, tidier and more orderly than its history would suggest – yet one in which traces of the coalfield persist for those who know how to look. These traces are not only industrial. They sit above a much older landscape: the Carboniferous coal-swamp forests that, over geological time, became the coal itself.

Objects as witnesses: fragments of a coalfield life
Some of the most direct connections to this landscape survive not in the ground, but in objects.
One is a framed Vanity Fair caricature of Keir Hardie, signed by Hardie and presented to my grandfather in recognition of his support during his successful campaign to be elected MP for Merthyr Tydfil (Fig. 2). It is not a grand historical document, but a modest domestic artefact – a fragment linking one individual life to the wider political transformation of the South Wales coalfield and, ultimately, the whole of Britain.

Another is a miner’s safety lamp made by E. Thomas & Williams Ltd of Aberdare (Fig. 4). Described as a “Cambrian-type” lamp – using the Victorian term “Cambrian” to mean “Welsh” – it represents the everyday material culture of the coalfield. Its enclosed flame and locked construction were designed to prevent the ignition of methane underground, an ever present hazard in coal mining.

Like the fossils described later, these objects are fragmentary survivals. Preserved by circumstance rather than design, they connect the lived experience of individuals to the wider systems – political, industrial and geological – that shaped the coalfield.
A miner’s life, partially recovered
My grandfather – Frederick John Coombes – lived at 9 Hall Street, Aberdare (Fig. 5), and worked as a collier in one of the nearby pits, probably Gadlys Colliery. The terraced streets of Aberdare were built rapidly to house the expanding workforce of the coalfield, forming dense, tightly organised communities within walking distance of the pits.

At some point, probably when he was still a young man, he was severely injured underground when a roof mass collapsed while he was working in a low seam. Family memory recalls this as the fall of what may well have been what UK miners called a “kettle-bottom” – the fossilised base of a lycopod tree — a reminder that the dangers of mining were rooted not only in engineering, but in the geological structure of the coal measures themselves.
His arm was badly shattered and never healed properly, requiring a leather support for the rest of his life. The injury ended his working life underground, but not his involvement in the coalfield community. He remained active in the coalfield community, particularly in local labour politics, supporting candidates such as Keir Hardie at a time when organised labour was reshaping both the valleys and the country.
Here again, fragments intersect: a fossilised tree base in the roof of a coal seam, an industrial accident, and a signed political cartoon – each part of the same story.
Childhood collecting and first geological connections
My own connection with this landscape began much later, during childhood visits to my grandmother in Aberdare, and walks with my mother across the margins of the former coalfield. The spoil tips – now long gone – were not approached as geological sites, but as places to explore.
It was on these walks that she pointed out living horsetails growing in waterlogged roadside ditches, explaining that these everyday plants provided a direct analogue for the fossil sphenopsids weathering out of the spoil. Even then, without formal understanding, the connection was clear: the industrial debris underfoot contained the remains of a much older, living world.
Only later did I realise that the spoil tips themselves were acting as unintentional geological exposures, bringing together material from multiple levels of the Coal Measures into a single, accessible surface.
The Coal Measures context: the deeper landscape
The same ground that supported mining communities also contains the remains of the ecosystems that made mining possible.
The spoil tips around Aberdare derive largely from roof shales and mudstones above worked seams within the Upper Carboniferous Coal Measures. These sediments record low-lying, waterlogged environments in which sphenopsids – Calamites, Annularia and Sphenophyllum – formed a dominant component of the vegetation, alongside seed ferns and extensive root systems.
When excavated and tipped at the surface, these beds were inadvertently reassembled into a condensed fossil assemblage. A single spoil tip could yield stems, leaves, roots and plant associations normally separated by metres of stratigraphy, offering a fragmented but coherent glimpse of the coal-swamp forests that once occupied this landscape.
Fossil plants from the Aberdare spoil tips
The fossils collected from these spoil tips are modest, often fragmentary, yet together they preserve a consistent ecological picture.
(1) Sphenopsids: Calamites, Annularia and Sphenophyllum
Sphenopsids are particularly well represented. Calamites stems occur frequently (Fig. 6), recognisable by their longitudinal ribbing and regular nodes (see box: What were Calamites?), while detached whorls of Annularia (Fig. 7) record the foliage borne on their branches. Alongside these are repeated remains of Sphenophyllum (Figs. 8-11; and see box: What was Sphenophyllum?), a smaller, scrambling plant whose wedge-shaped leaves form distinctive star-like whorls.
These are not isolated finds. Their repeated association points to a persistent plant community adapted to wet, disturbed ground – exactly the conditions expected on Carboniferous floodplains and swamp margins.
| What were Calamites? |
|---|
| Calamites were tall, tree-like relatives of modern horsetails and a major component of Carboniferous coal-swamp vegetation. Some species reached heights of 20m or more, with hollow, jointed stems divided by regular nodes. Their surfaces were marked by longitudinal ribs, often preserved as fine vertical striations in shale (Fig. 6). Calamites grew in waterlogged ground along floodplains and channel margins, spreading by underground rhizomes and rapidly colonising disturbed environments. |




| What was Sphenophyllum? |
|---|
| Sphenophyllum was a smaller, scrambling relative of the horsetails, forming part of the understorey of Carboniferous swamp vegetation. Its most distinctive feature is the arrangement of wedge-shaped leaves radiating from a central node to form star-like whorls. Unlike the upright Calamites, Sphenophyllum probably grew by leaning or climbing through surrounding plants, occupying damp, disturbed ground at the margins of swamps and channels. |


(2) Seed ferns
Seed ferns are also present (see box: What were seed ferns?), although typically as small fragments rather than complete fronds. Pinnules attributable to Neuropteris (Figs. 11-13) occur both in isolation and in association with other plants, reflecting the delicate construction of these fronds and their tendency to fragment during transport and burial.
| What were seed ferns? |
|---|
| Seed ferns were an extinct group of plants that combined fern-like foliage with seed-based reproduction. Although their leaves closely resemble those of true ferns, they were early seed plants and part of the lineage that eventually gave rise to modern gymnosperms. In Carboniferous coal-swamp forests, seed ferns such as Neuropteris formed a leafy understorey beneath taller vegetation. Their delicate fronds fragmented easily, which is why they are most often found as isolated pinnules in coal-measure deposits. |



(3) Rooting structures and plant associations
Rooting structures add a further dimension. Subterranean axes (Fig. 15) and mixed plant assemblages (Fig. 16) show that these plants were not isolated taxa, but components of an interconnected ecosystem.


Reconstructing the Carboniferous landscape
Taken together, these fragments allow a partial reconstruction of the Carboniferous coal-swamp forest (Figs. 16-18).

These reconstructions are not decorative, but interpretive: an attempt to rebuild a living landscape from fragmentary material collected on spoil tips. They reunite stems, leaves and roots into ecological relationships – Sphenophyllum scrambling through larger vegetation, calamitean stands occupying waterlogged ground, and seed ferns forming a dense understorey.

They also provide an unexpected connection back to the industrial story. The fossilised base of a lycopod tree – preserved as a “kettle-bottom” – may have been the very type of structure that caused the roof collapse that ended my grandfather’s working life.

Where we are now
Today, Aberdare presents a softened landscape in which the physical traces of mining are increasingly difficult to discern. Yet beneath this reordered surface lie the remains of both human lives and ancient forests, layered one above the other.
What survives are fragments: fossils weathering from discarded shale, a signed cartoon preserved in a family home, a miner’s lamp, and paths that no longer lead to where they once did. Each, on its own, is incomplete. Taken together, they reconstruct a place in which deep time, industry and lived experience are inseparable – a coalfield not only of extraction, but of memory.
