There's a dingy room next to the front desk, but a much nicer room off to the side at the back. Helen is absolutely delighted she can now get herself a pre-flight nerve-calming gin. As if the prospect of flying on a small-ish plane hadn't been enough, she's not overly happy that we had to check bags and much much much less happy that we currently don't actually have a way to get home from Grenada, apparently.
The beer is ropey, the cling film sandwich also, but whatever. Helen made a far superior set of liquid and solid choices than I. We only had about 20 minutes in here, still a little jittery about our flight - LIAT get roundly panned online for the quality of communication on the ground, after all - so I step out to see if anything's happening, just at the moment they announce they'll be boarding by groups of rows.
Back, grab our stuff, and out we go, just a couple of minutes to kill until group 2 - our group - is announced. I'm pointing out our plane and saying look, this does not qualify as a "death plane" (Helen's name for the 12/14-seater Cessnas we flew in Costa Rica). A few minutes later we're through, walking across the tarmac and up the stairs at the back.
It's an 18 row plane, 2x2, and we're exactly halfway along in row 9 on the left. Bravely, Helen opts for the window seat. We have a surprising amount of legroom, in fact more than we do headroom as it's somewhat cramped in the Y axis on here. It takes long enough for people to board that we get through the entire freebie magazine before takeoff.
Port of Spain to Grenada is only a half hour flight. There's zero service, which is fine, I'm entertained enough by the exuberant audio advertisements for the airline over the tannoy. "It's easier than you think to get from Antigua to Puerto Rico", apparently. I dunno, I just kinda assumed there would be flights, so telling me there are flights isn't really easier than I thought.
"Now listen, I don't think I'm overreacting here, that was definitely peril" she says, once we're safely on the ground after a moderately entertaining descent. The cap'n came on the mic to say we were going to go west to lose some height before our final approach, and what that meant in practice was we would fly a tight spiral down towards the sea and then gain some height as we stop spiralling. Supposedly, she reckons, he'd been a bit too eager and had to correct a mistake. Heh.
Grenada airport is right on the edge of the island, literally. You don't see land out of the window until about 5 seconds before you touch down, and oh boy did we touch down with a bump. The runway seems to be downhill, so they really have to ram the brakes on hard. At the end we pull a quick u-turn and taxi to the terminal; well, almost the terminal. We have to walk across tarmac again.
There's a bar! It's called D Real Bamboo Bar, but it doesn't seem to be open, in a "fuck off, I'm welding" kinda way. Well OK. Really we're just looking for the nearest shop and after a lot of stray dogs, the odd chicken, and a goat on a rope, there is an open shop on the right. The people outside are super friendly and we pop in just to buy a couple of bottles of water. Helen reckons this place is called the Red Lion, but it don't look like no pub. But there are supplies near the hotel, so that's good.
Back along the road and onto the beach, there's a bit called Mount Rodney and some stairs at the end. A couple of other guests from the hotel are sitting on a log and we wave hello to them, but opt not to ascend the steps at the end because they seem to go to a private house rather than Petite Anse as we'd hoped. Instead, we take our own log and watch the diving birds go fishing. Like this.
The views back to Sauteurs and Levera are as lovely as those out to seat. But the tide seems to be coming in, so we make our way back along the beach narrowly avoiding getting our feet wet.
Over to the west, the sun is starting to set.
Back up the steep hill to the guesthouse. Y'know, this really is quite steep and hard work, isn't it?
This is a goats cheese mousse on beetroot with pine nuts. We're both chastised for not eating the greenery which it comes with.
The chilli chocolate tarte dessert has a proper kick to it, not mean but very noticeable. It's all just great.