IN the wake of the chaos and destruction caused by Storm Claudia, one thing in particular was highlighted, and that was just how little we all know about the little streams and brooks that circumvent Abergavenny both above and beneath land.

Although the River Usk didn’t really have any skin in the storm, both the River Gavenny and in particular, the Cibi and Priory Brook did.

Although generally dismissed as sweet and singing little streams that wind their way pleasantly through the town, often out of sight and out of mind, that all changed on the night of November 14.

The Cibi in particular escaped its underground lair to burst through a wall in Pen-y-Pound in an act of savage ferocity.

That long-forgotten waterway announced its arrival in modern times in no uncertain terms by flooding Frogmore Street and beyond.

A small reservoir fed by the Cibi used to be located in Pen-y-Pound, and its underground pipes supplied large parts of the town with water. What forgotten pathways had now been opened by the torrents raging down from the Sugar Loaf?

Meanwhile, the Gavenny, in terrible echoes of the Great Mill Street Flood of 1931, engulfed Lower Monk Street and large parts of the Monmouth Road in its watery embrace.

Blocked drains couldn’t cope, as an under dredged river dumped its excess silt in a frenzied and frantic flash flood.

Somewhat mercifully, the floodwaters soon receded to leave people counting the cost of the damage and asking why this flood had been so bad and so strange?

The gleeful anarchy of the hidden brooks proved that the town planners of today have forgotten what lies beneath, and there is an all-pervading fear that this will happen again, and soon, if precautions are not taken.

Yet how do you fix what you don’t understand?

Natural Resources Wales has already told the Chronicle that due to their size, they are unable to provide flood warnings for the River Gavenny or Afon Cibi, because “they respond very quickly to rainfall, making it technically challenging to provide timely and accurate warnings.”

When the experts have all but thrown in the towel, perhaps the only thing you can do in such circumstances is look to the past and what understanding the civic planners of Abergavenny’s yesteryear had of the town’s waterways and sanitation.

And what better place to look than in the industrious and can-do attitude of the Victorian era.

In his 1847 report on the “Sanitary Condition Of The Town Of Abergavenny,” Doctor Samuel H. Steel conducted a deep and no-holds-barred dive into the waterworks of old mother Abergavenny, and it makes for interesting reading.

In those days, the town only contained 1049 houses and a population of 4953 persons.

Do the math! That figure tends to equal overcrowding, and as the report goes on to reveal, less than judicious sanitary arrangements.

When describing Abergavenny the good doctor writes, “The ridge of ground on which the town is built slopes on one side abruptly towards the River Usk, from which is is separated by a broad flat meadow, sometimes flooded by heavy rains; on the other, gently in a south-eastern direction down to the brook Kibby; on this slope the central and more important streets are situated.

“The Kibby brook rises in the Sugar Loaf mountain at a considerable elevation, takes a south-easterly course, passing through the north-east part of town, where it serves as a common sewer; at the east end of town it joins the Gavenny, another brook flowing from the north-east, and the two, very shortly after their junction, empty themselves into the River Usk.”

You read it right! Back then, the Cibi was little more than a common sewer for the townsfolk. However, when reading Dr Steel’s report, there is an impression that the whole of Abergavenny was a bit of an open sewer back then.

The Doctor writes, “St John’s Lane near the centre of the town, connects Nevill or Rother Street and Chicken Street. The pitching is very uneven, and a gutter runs down the centre, with a very imperfect and irregular fall. Being the receptacle of all the liquid refuse, is generally half full of dirty stagnant water. The ashes and all other filth are deposited in a heap at the Nevill-Street entrance of the lane, and are removed twice a week by a farmer for manure. There is one privy in the lane, but it is private property and usually kept locked.”

The good old days, hey?

And it was the same story for most of the rest of Abergavenny, where cesspools and streams of filth were commonplace.

In Traitor’s Lane, now known as Market Street, Dr Steel writes that there were pools of mingled water, urine, and blood from the slaughtered cattle everywhere, and when attending a case of fever there, he found a family of eight sleeping in a twelve-foot square room whose only drinking water was that of the Cibi.

Although Dr Steel revealed that he was unable to find any plan or written account concerning the drainage and sewerage system of Abergavenny, he does report that, “There are culverts in most of the principal streets; but they are generally ill constructed, and are placed at insufficient depths.”

He explains, “There is a barrel drain, 18 inches in diameter, which begins in High Street, at the corner of Chicken Street, passes down Cross Street, and empties itself into the Kibby near St Mary’s Church.”

He adds that there is a drain on the south side of the lower part of Frogmore Street that is always full and water may be seen there, “in rainy weather, standing an inch deep over the gratings leading to the drain.”

Charting the exact course of the Cibi, Dr Steel explains how after supplying the town’s reservoir with water, it continues through Pen-y-Pound, through the lower end of Frogmore Street, and runs through Lion Street and Cross Street, dividing for about 120 yards before it unites beneath Monk Street, heads towards Mill Street and feeds into a pond also supplied by the Gavenny, before rejoining the Gavenny and heading towards the Usk.

Dr Steel added that, “The inhabitants of Mill Street often use the water from the Mill Pond for washing, and sometimes for cooking, or for tea, without heeding the contamination of the Kibby - an instance of the repugnance to the trouble of fetching water from a distance, always exhibited by the poor.”

Dr Steel concludes his report by recommending a new reservoir be built for the town, which, fortunately, his bother Mr. T. Dyne. Steel had already drawn up the plans and estimates for.

The Doctor explained, “He proposes the construction of a new reservoir on the Kibby, a little above the Chapel Chain Road and below the Mill, capable of containing 810,718 gallons; or in round numbers, rather more than eleven days’ supply for 6000 persons, at the rate of 12 gallons each per diem.”

A mere six years after the report was published, things began to happen in Abergavenny. Street lighting was installed, roads were paved, and the Llwyndu reservoir was built.

Join us next week for another deep dive into the waterworks of Abergavenny.