Tile beach

We headed down the hill to a beach, guided by a friendly, collared dog. The dog had started to walk with us a while back. It's a small Island and Islanders are known to be friendly. We joked around that he would be paid with a steak. Or hotdog.

A rocky beach it was. Roof tiles scattered throughout.

 

Upon a closer look I discovered broken kitchen tiles.

And a broken plate.

Back on track for a renovation blog perhaps!

At least 65% of the beach floor is tile! Surely, the tiles had not blown down here. They had been here for awhile, the edges softened by continuous waves. The Island is vehicleless. We guessed that this was the place to recycle tiles. In fact, on our hike down, I noted a few old doors leaning against trees along side the road. Maybe for trash pick up. But that must be scarce. We suspected it would be difficult to renovate or even just fix a home on an Island with no cars and probably no hardware store or delivery service.


We enjoyed the beach anyhow. Chaz had fun smashing rocks...

and Lucy licking the salt off the tiles.

The story does not end here. Sadly, actually. See our friendly guide, laying in the background... Well we got up to leave. We were at the trail head and I looked back to see if the dog would escort us up the hill. And he did. He got up and came along with us.

We met some chickens on the path. Momma chicken and a clutch of chicks. I called back for Chaz to come look. And while I was taking a picture of this cute chickie...

The dog came charging. I grew up on a farm. My mom has dogs that chase squirrels and any other moving rodent. I thought this dog was just having fun. And no quicker then I had that thought he leaped in the air and snatched that little chickie (the one above). I was too late in protecting him. Didn't really no what to do, but surely I should have been doing something other then taking his picture.

The other chickies and momma all made it back under the fence. The dog went back down the hill, with his ... reward? We went up the hill, heads hanging low, low, low.

That is our Princes' Islands story. Read here to learn why these Islands in the Sea of Marmara are thus named.