Pontypool is situated on the Afon Llwyd river in the county borough of Torfaen
Located on the edge of the South Wales coalfields, Pontypool is regarded as an industrial town with former industries including iron and steel production, coal mining and the growth of the railways.
Pontypool town centre has a range of high street shops, a great indoor market and an historic park right in the middle of town! Pontypool Park is home to a dry ski slope, the beautiful shell grotto and the Folly Tower. There are plenty of activities and places to explore. Find out more in Tourism and Leisure.
The major access route is the A4042, with the junction located between Abergavenny and Newport. The nearest railway station, Pontypool & New Inn Station, is 2 miles away and has a recently expanded car park. There are also bus services to the surrounding areas. For further information visit Traveline.Cymru.
Pontypool History
The Elegy of Pontypool Park: A Tale Woven in Welsh Green
Yr Alaw I Parc Pont-y-pŵl: Chwedl Wedi’I Gweu yn Gwyrdd Cymreig
by Anwen Idris
In Pontypool, where hills embrace the vast celestial sea,
A park reclines, an ode to man’s enduring alchemy.
John Hanbury, of iron and ore, your legacy imbues
Each tree, each blade, each edifice, with history’s varied hues.
Oh, Pontymoile Gates, you are the threshold of my soul,
A passage through which countless feet have sought a distant goal.
Your iron stands, a sentinel to eras long since past,
A tribute to ambitions that were clearly meant to last.
Within your verdant arms, oh Folly Tower, you reside—
A monument to human will, where dreams and earth collide.
You overlook Monmouthshire, as if to claim your due,
A vantage point from which to watch both olden times and new.
Ah, Shell Grotto, sanctuary adorned in ocean’s gems,
Your walls recount forgotten tales like long-lost, treasured hymns.
From chambered nautilus to conch, your artistry gives voice
To all the silent yearnings that make wanderers rejoice.
The aged chestnut, wise and deep, its years four centuries,
Does whisper secrets kept by time, shared only with the breeze.
The Italian Gardens, poised and fair, like Dylan in repose,
Bring cultured charm and flair to Wales’ native prose.
Nearby, the Nant-y-Gollen Ponds reflect the sky above,
And mirror all the tangled tales of unrequited love.
The sporting fields and courts declare a modern life’s demand,
Yet still they live in harmony with history’s layered land.
From rugby’s roar to quiet chess, pursuits both old and grand,
Each has a home in Pontypool, in this storied, wondrous strand.
Dear Pontypool, your saga’s writ in every twig and stone,
In every soul who walks your paths, your legend has been sown.
You are the book that never ends, a narrative so free—
A tale of beauty, change, and time, set in Welsh elegy







