Just one mile north of Pontypridd you'll find a little village called Cilfynydd.

It looks like any other Valleys village made up of terraced houses, a few corner shops, schools and a rugby club.

But its existence is owed purely to one thing - the Albion Colliery.

Like many mining villages in South Wales, Cilfynydd's inception was pretty instant. Few houses existed before a mine shaft was sunk in 1884, then the terraces were quickly built for the people who travelled to work there.

It was 125 years ago on June 23, 1894, that the community suffered its darkest day.

The day began like any other as the miners went to work, while above ground Richard Street was crowded with shoppers.

But at 3.50pm two big explosions were heard. Within hours, 2,000 people were huddled at the pit head.

The Albion Colliery in Cilfynydd

The incident left 290 men and boys dead, along with 123 horses. Only 16 men were brought out alive, of which just five went on to survive.

Back then, it was the worst disaster in mining history.

Only the Senghenydd mining disaster of 1913, where 439 men lost their lives, led to a greater loss of life since.

That black day for the people of Cilfynydd created 150 widows and left 350 children fatherless.

You can read more about the tragic stories of Wales's worst mining disasters here.

An image from the Albion Colliery Disaster in Cilfynydd

The colliery remained working until 1966, and today it still runs through the veins of the village, even though a lot has changed since its demise.

The mine's address now belongs to Pontypridd High School and its name claimed by the Albion Cafe, the tin shed which has been feeding Valleys workers for the past three decades.

The colliery's winding tower is proudly displayed on the badge of the village rugby team alongside Pontypridd bridge, the Welsh daffodil, and the Prince of Wales’ feathers.

The club, established in 1893, was initially made up of the colliery's miners who worked together to build the pitch nearby.

As well as building the rugby club, the miners also paid for the development of the Working Men's Hall. Now it's known as Cilfynydd Community Centre, but its roots are not forgotten.

The truth is, without the Albion, there wouldn't be much of a village.

In fact, there was once a meeting held to discuss whether the area should be called Albion Town - though it was later rejected after Cilfynydd was seen as a more suitable option.

The winding tower takes pride of place on the Cilfynydd RFC badge
Cilfynydd Community Centre, formerly known as the Workmen's Hall

'Bodies were carried from the shaft to the loft'

Despite the tragic impact that the disaster had on the village, within the mining community it has sometimes felt lost in the history books. 

As curator at Big Pit Ceri Thompson explains, the Albion disaster is not as talked about as much as other mining tragedies. 

"It doesn't come to mind because Sengenydd was the biggest in Britain," he said. 

"If they ask what is the second biggest they usually say Gresford, but it wasn't. [The Albion] was the second biggest disaster."

Meurig Evans's book about the disaster, One Saturday Afternoon, describes the "harrowing scenes" of that tragic day as bodies were being carried from the pit to the stables nearby.

It says: "About 50 yards to the north of the downcast shaft was a long building, the stables used for the horses when they were brought up from below and for those horses used on the surface.

"The hay-loft of the stables was immediately commandeered to treat the wounded, but by the late Saturday evening it had become a temporary morgue. Bodies were carried from the shaft to the loft."

Newspaper reports at the time illustrated how hard the tragedy hit the community.

Bodies were still being found days after the explosion had taken place, leaving families in great distress.

A newspaper image from 1894

They were discovered with lamps beside them

On July 9, 1894, the South Wales Echo reported how four more people had been found dead in a search of the colliery. At this point the fatality rate had risen to 287.

The article said the bodies discovered with lamps beside them were "frightfully mutilated."

Less than a month later the village was said to be "deserted" as hundreds started to leave to try and find work elsewhere.

The Echo said the village was overshadowed with a "gloomy and deserted aspect".

The picture painted by the reporter as he described what it was like to approach the pits sums up the distress.

He wrote: "I noticed an aged woman, attired in mourning, walking slowly in the direction of Pontypridd.

"I ascertained afterwards that her son was one of the victims of the calamity. There are still sad scenes to be seen in the locality daily.

"Then I noticed huddled together on the doorstep of a cottage on the roadside a number of little children who, I was told, had lost their fathers in the dreadful catastrophe."

Despite the disaster, the colliery reopened within two weeks.

The unidentified 11

In Llanfabon near Nelson, there's a monument dedicated to the 11 workmen who died but were never identified.

The unidentified 11 are buried together, side by side, at a graveyard.

The memorial to 11 unidentified pit workers at St. Mabon's Church
A monument lies next to the graves

Each headstone has the word "unknown" written on the top - the only people they had, in the end, were each other.

While families mourned their loved ones, others may never have known who they had lost.

To this day some villagers still visit the monument to lay flowers in tribute to the unknown 11.

Miners outside the Albion Colliery in Cilfynydd

'The village died when the mine closed'

Former collier Alwyn Morgan grew up in Cilfynydd and worked there for around 10 years before it closed. Just like generations of his family before him.

"In 1895 my grandfather married my grandmother," said the 79-year-old. "He came over from Merthyr Tydfil and they were living in Mary Street.

"Both my grandfather and father were working in the pit. For some reason [my grandfather] should have been there at the time of the disaster. He was meant to work the night that it happened.

"A man had asked him to swap his shift that day. If he had been on that night shift we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Mr Morgan, who started working at the pit in 1956, said mining life went back to normal when the colliery eventually re-opened. They simply had to get on with it, he said.

"Sometimes it was fun - sometimes it was hard," added Mr Morgan. "I still have the scars from a day when the roof came in once. 

"I injured my hand. There's no feeling in part of it. They said I would have a job to work with it again."

Richard Street today

"There was a community with the miners," he said.  "Back then when things got tough, everyone came together. It was all for one, and one for all.

"There were generations of families there. Richard Street was like a little town, and there were all sorts of shops there.  You would get everything you wanted - you didn't need to go to Ponty.

"The village died after the mine closed."

Just a decade ago, Richard Street had many more shops - such as a hairdressers, a bakery, a florist and a paper shop. Now all that's left is a cafe, a corner shop and a pharmacy.

Like many Valleys areas, it has struggled to compete with supermarkets and shopping outlets in nearby areas.

The memorial at Llanfabon

Yet there is still a great sense of community, warmth and familiarity, with generations of the same families living there.

Just like the comradery that Mr Morgan said existed with the men in the mines. 

He speaks fondly of friends such as "Dai Penry" and "Dai Sweat" (named aptly due to the fact that he used to sweat all the time). 

He smiled when he told me he worked with my great-grandfather, Ted Carroll, at one point. My grandfather, Martin, also spent some time working at the colliery. 

"I would get the paper for him and then and then we would be scanning the horses," he said, laughing. 

"I have some good memories there. Some good times. But people don't realise how hard it would be.

"There were lots of little accidents that happened over a long time - as well as the bigger ones. People would lose limbs, legs and get injuries."

The memorial to pit workers that lies at the school site
This also lies at the former site - now Pontypridd High School

The last lamp

In 2016, Big Pit was donated a Cambrian safety lamp, in which a letter had been discovered tucked into the bonnet.

Mr Thompson explains it's believed to be one of the last remaining lamps used at the colliery from the time of the disaster.

In the letter dated January 10, 1928, Mr D. Lloyd Davies of Maerdy, Rhondda, apologises for the delay in sending the lamp to Mr James Hawes.

The writer describes the lamp as "one of the few that was recovered from the terrible Cilfynydd explosion".

The lamp now lies at the museum

According to the curator, the connection between the two men appears to be the 1927 Welsh Hunger March.

The event saw 270 unemployed South Wales miners march to London, including David Lloyd Davies, who wanted to cast a light on poor conditions of those out of work and draw attention to mine closures.

The miners began their walk from Maerdy at the top of Rhondda Fach on March 8, 1927, until they finally arrived in London about two weeks later.

Tragically, two miners died on the way - one in a traffic accident and another from pneumonia.

Mr Hawes was an undertaker who it's believed may have assisted the marchers.

It's still a mystery how Mr Lloyd Davies came to obtain the lamp but, according to experts, it's likely the lamps of those killed were saved and restored following the disaster.

You can now see the lamp at the National Museum Wales.

The village of Cilfynydd today

An inquest into the disaster later confirmed that miners had lost their lives due to an explosion which was accelerated by coal dust.

Sadly the colliery's misfortune didn't end there as fewer than 15 years later another explosion happened at the site, killing six men, this time believed to be caused by a spark from a lamp relighter igniting a pocket of gas.

Today you'll find little reminders of the Albion Colliery across the Valleys, and no more so in the village it created and destroyed, where people continue to place flowers on 11 unidentified graves.