We already know the history – you'd be unlikely to stumble upon here if you didn't – but let her give us more detail. Sauteurs is a French word meaning leapers/jumpers, y'see. Back in the 1600s or so the French and English kept having battles for supremacy over the islands, giving not one shit about the locals. And here, at the very northernmost tip of Grenada, where the Atlantic becomes the Caribbean, a group of Carib locals decided it was better to collectively leap from the hill to their doom than surrender to the French forces who'd come to subjugate them.
Here, this photo of the monument to the event will correct any mistakes I just made in my retelling of the story.
Eurgh. Not a happy story. Through the graveyard a few people are preparing for funeral taking place later that day, meanwhile we're told the stories of some of the existing plots: the young Dr Noel who died of sickle cell anaemia, but played a vital part in the identification/isolation of it; the graves made of bricks from English slave ships.
Back at the original lookout we're told the break wall for the sea was built by the church to calm the force of the Atlantic, allowing the local children to be taught how to swim without having to trek an hour or more to the only municipal baths on the island (or the calmer beaches down at the southwest). She was delighted we were staying locally rather than mere daytrippers up from St Georges, and offered us some of her homemade ice cream in exchange for a small donation.
We agreed, of course. Sat inside the little cafe/souvenir shop as she made it, a couple of kids wandered in and out, with a clear "Afternoon!" greeting to us. The ice cream was indeed fully home made, one of each flavour on offer: almond, and nutmeg. We could see the tree from which the almonds came, being right outside the cafe. They both tasted utterly delicious and happily handed over a few Eastern Caribbean Dollars for everything. That was a great experience.
Back onto Sauteurs's main street (called, I think, "Main Street") we wandered up the hill and past the Anglican Church, then around the corner past the various kiosks then the Jehovah's Witness place. Every few seconds a number 9 bus would drive past and try to hail us with a honk, but we were eschewing public transport and in fact disappearing off the route and towards Levera.
The plan was: walk this nice hiking route past the "Levera museum of art" into the national park, reach Levera beach, walk down to Bathways Beach, ask someone to drive us to Sallee from which we could catch a bus back to Sauteurs.
The hiking route isn't countryside, but a mixed paved/gravel track winding up and down slopes with an ever-lessening frequency of housing and kiosks, but still a friendly wave and greeting from everyone we see except for at the place we later christen "The Corner of Unfriendliness". Every few yards, like a weird Tour de France route, there's VOTE NNP plastered on the ground.
It's fairly hard work though we're not chugging our water too much, and it's nice and quiet and good exercise. We have regular views of the islands to our left and ahead of us, because at the corner of the island which is our destination there's a small archipelago.
I'm fucking delighted to see so many chickens crossing the road. Seriously, it's really bloody funny to me.
The "Museum of Art" is the idiosyncratic artwork of a man named Dolliver. On the street are numerous mannequins in various poses, two playing keyboards, one with a TV for a face. There are paintings and other sculptures and it's a little bonkers. We neither stopped nor took any photos, but there's plenty written about it online.