A view south from Brown Hill, also known as Carlton Moor. On the left, is the shallow valley of Thackdale, which evolves, rather whimsically, into Snotterdale.
Snotterdale, a charming offshoot of Scugdale, stirs fond memories. However, its beauty remains largely unseen by the public eye, devoid of Public Rights of Way. My exploration of its woods occurred in 1996, when they served as the stage for the Jan Kjellström orienteering relays. To my knowledge, this enchanting site has since lain undisturbed, a lamentable fate.
The name of my home city, Nottingham, purportedly derives from a Saxon chieftain named Snot, thus Snotingaham—’the settlement of Snot’s people’. One might ponder if the chieftain’s name bore the same ignoble connotation as today. One can only imagine the merciless ridicule he would have endured during his schooling years. It is with a certain twisted affection therefore that I regard Snotterdale as the valley of Snot. ‘Dale’, of course, could trace its origins to either the Scandinavian ‘dalr‘ or the Old English ‘dael‘.
Alternatively, perhaps this dale is but an impostor, a mere clough. One pictures the scene: Royal Ordnance surveyors in the 1800s, diligently mapping the terrain, ask a local about the name of the dale. “It’s not a dale,” he retorts gruffly. And thus, Snotterdale was christened.
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