Looking for advice from veteran bloggers.

Being quite new at this, I'm looking for a little advice from those of you out there who've been blogging for a while. I'm experimenting with different ways to present photos with my travel stories. Previously I've just embedded them into the post for all too see, like this...


With cool underlining captions

but that system seriously limits the number of images I can include in a post before making my text seem like an afterthought.

So, on my last post I simply linked to the images in my text like this This method allows me to insert many, many more photos, but requires the reader to click a lot, in and out of my page, back and forth, which will eventually annoy the user into leaving forever. I've considered making the text links open up new windows, but that would probably be even more annoying. Nobody likes pop-ups. So my question to all you coding, designing bloggers extraordinare is, how can I effectively insert a bunch (let's say ten or so) photos into a five or six paragraph story without using enormous amounts of space, and without annoying my readers? I'm well versed with HTML and know the basics of CSS and JavaScript, but haven't gotten into any of the 2.0 technologies (AJAX, ect..) Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks a ton!

-Miles.

ENOUGH HAWAII ALREADY!

Again, many terrible apologies for my lacks-a-daysical blogging habits. The problem is, believe it or not, I'm sick and tired of writing about Hawaii. Every time I sit down to write, I go completely blank, and wind up hitting my StumbleUpon button for a few hours. I've completely exhausted my supply of words, expressions, and comparisons to describe green and beautiful. Maybe I'll finish the eight other stories I have planned some time in the future, but right now I'm just completely bored with the whole island. Besides I'm sure my adoring fan is more interested in what I've been up to more recently.

Since Hawaii I've only been on one trip. For the third time this year, I returned to Idaho, this time for a few days relaxation in Lava Hot Springs. Lava Hot Springs is a small resort town built around several naturally heated pools that are a nice temperature for bathing. Unfortunately, the outside air temperature makes going near hot water unbearable until after sunset. During the daytime hours, the best way to cool off is rent a tube and float down the Portneuf River, or plunge 32 feet into the Olympic sized swimming pool. If for some reason you feel like NOT being wet for a little while, take a short walk through the Hanging Gardens. On display is a dizzying array of biting insects. Stop to slap a couple thousand before heading back to the safety of the water. And that's about it. The rest of Lava Hot Springs is composed of a few hick bars (Moose Drool on tap!) a couple of cheap restaurants, and kitschy souvenir shops. I spent three days in a lethargic stupor but went home feeling surprisingly relaxed and refreshed.

Closer to home, like the rest of the world, I've been swept up in Harry Potter fever. First camping out for 18 hours in front of the local movie theater for the opening night showing of the Order of the Phoenix, then hooking up with a group of imposters at FYE at midnight before the release of the Deathly Hollows. I haven't read the whole book yet, seeing as how I actually have to work and stuff, but so far I'm loving it. I lied awake for two hours nearly crying last night, and that's only after the fifth chapter.

Upcoming on the travel slate is a quick day trip to San Fransisco, camping, and maybe Denver. Methinks I'm going to attempt the dreaded same-day passport office. I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes.

-Miles

Wonders

In high school one of my teachers once asked me to name the 7 Wonders of the World. My answer was something along the lines of; Um... the pyramids, and the uh, grand canyon, and erm, Rome.... right? Most people these days are only vaguely aware that there is such a thing as the 7 Wonders of the World, and very few know what they are. The main reason for this is only one of the original Wonders is still standing, the Pyramids at Giza. That's why the New7Wonders Foundation announced today (07-07-07) the NEW 7 Wonders of The World. And the winners are....

Chichen Itza, Mexico
Christ Redeemer, Brazil
The Great Wall, China
Machu Piccu, Peru
Petra, Jordan
The Roman Colosseum, Rome
The Taj Mahal, India

I personally am pleased as punch. I've always been a little disappointed at the fact that I'll never be able to say that I've seen all 7 Wonders of the World, but now that has changed. If you don't already know the story behind this amazing effort to find the best of the best of man's structures, go check out their website.

If you missed out on the opportunity to cast your vote for the New 7 Wonders, don't worry! It now looks like the New7Wonders Foundation is beginning to take nominations for the New7Wonders of Nature. Nominations will continue through 08-08-08 and then the top contenders will be voted on by humanity. Start racking your brains for the most beautiful, breathtaking, and awe-inspiring sites mother nature has blessed us with!

Miles

Is this how writers block starts?

So, I'm a terrible blogger. Ok, not terrible, just INCREDIBLY slow. I'm averaging one post a month. Ewww..... I mean, I guess I could just make up some short little post everyday where I don't really say anything, but that's not why I'm here. I'm doing this blog because I want to learn how to write. I want to learn to write well. I've been studying travel writing for a while now and feel like it's time for me to give it a shot. But I'm just so SLOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW.... I don't know any other writers, but seriously, how long should it take to write a five paragraph story. Certainly not a whole month.

I've been reading lots of travel writing lately. I finally decided to knuckle down and read some "classic" travel writing, namely The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain and On The Road by Jack Kerouac. Now, it's Mark Twain and Jack Kerouac, so of course they're going to be brilliant, but as I'm reading I keep wondering how long it took them to come up with passages like this one from The Innocents

"The island in sight was Flores. It seemed only a mountain of mud standing up out of the dull mists of the sea. But as we bore down upon it, the sun came out and made it a beautiful picture - a mass of green farms and meadows that swelled up to a height of fifteen hundred feet, and mingled its upper outlines with the clouds. It was ribbed with sharp steep ridges, and cloven with narrow canons, and here and there on the heights, rocky upheavals shaped themselves into mimic battlements and castles; and out of rifted clouds came broad shafts of sunlight that painted summit, and slope, and glen, with bands of fire, and left belts of sombre shade between. It was the aurora borealis of the frozen pole exiled to a summer land!"

*sigh*Did Twain sit for hours on end pouring over that paragraph, writing, rewriting, editing, and rearranging, as I would have had too? Or was he simply so brilliant that he barely had to think about it? Just write what was in his mind, make a few small changes, then send it off to the publisher. Either way, I have prose envy.

Who you calling Chicken?

As I mentioned before, when you befriend someone at a hostel there's no telling where you might end up. Especially when that someone needs a place to live.

Jewels, my friend from Little Beach, had recently moved to Maui. She is one of the bravest, most confident people I've ever met. Tired of the dirt, pollution, and crime in New York, she'd simply decided it was time to go, and off she went, just like that. The only things she'd brought were a few changes of clothes, a mandolin, and a burning sense of independence and determination. She'd been living at the Banana Bungalow for about a week and had finally found a place to live. Some locals in town had told her about a place way out in the middle of nowhere called the The Chicken Shack. It was owned by an old hermit hippie who's only aspiration in life was to sit around and grow pot. I was a little skeptical, but it was her only option, and she seemed pretty excited about it. The problem was she didn't have a ride, and her new landlord's only advice was to hitchhike. So, donning my shiny silver rent-a-car armor, I set out to rescue the displaced damsel.

Our first challenge was actually figuring out how to get there. Jewels had been to the Chicken Shack once and could only remember small fractions of how to get there. We called the landlord, and he spat out a dizzyingly complex set of driving directions fast enough to get a speeding ticket. I asked if he could slow down, but he simply scoffed and hung up. We began our journey with what little bits of knowledge we could piece together. Start out on the Hana Highway, over a bridge, and turn left onto a dirt road just past the first fruit stand. We made it that far alright, but the minute we left the main road we were instantly lost. When you leave the well paved tourist highways in Hawaii, the dirt paths quickly become a maze of car-sickness inducing ruts more appropriate for a horse and buggy than a rented Cobalt.

At first our fruitless meandering was quite pleasant. We rumbled up and down small hills and curves, past odd and eccentric homes surrounded by colorful flowers and old Volkswagen Beetles that were once tie-dyed but now mostly rust. But as we got deeper into the outback and further from civilization, things began to get spooky. The jungle leaned in closer after every turn and drop. We were completely enclosed by trees and being funneled down a narrowing road with no hope of turning around and making an escape. This is exactly the way grizzly slasher movies start. A couple of dumb kids head out into the woods to find some pot party and wind up getting eaten by the deranged inbred chainsaw brothers. Know I knew why the chubby little man behind the car-rental counter had sternly warned me to NEVER take the car off the paved roads.

We nervously crept forward. Eventually we came to a bridge over a small creek. It looked a little shaky, but my real worry was the large toy horse brutally impaled on a wooden spike on the other side. I asked Jewels how quickly she thought I could navigate this road in reverse, but she was fairly certain this was the way, so we pressed on past the grisly totem. Suddenly the road wasn't even dirt anymore, just a crude path of crushed weeds and grass. I was about to begin an impossible 30 point turn when Jewels gave out a little squeal of relief. We pulled into a large sunny clearing and arrived at the Chicken Shack without running into a single bloodthirsty lunatic. I thought we were out of danger. Then we met the landlord.



The Chicken Shack, in all it's dilapidated glory
The owner of the Chicken Shack was an unbelievably ancient and vile man. Tall and gaingly, he walked with his legs bowed out like a chaffing skeleton. He'd obviously abandoned all notions of personal hygiene sometime long ago. A thick layer of dirt filled in the deep lines of his face. Dozens of flies went undisturbed as they spun drunken circles in the terrible ripe odor oozing from him like hot tar and car exhaust. Large white spots marked the stringy blond hair scattered over his scalp and across his face. More uninviting than his outward traits was his personality. I was concentrating far too hard on controlling my gag reflex to pay much attention to his hazed and stuttering speech, but he seemed extremely skeptical about Jewels' ability to pay the rent every month. She'd already given him $500 to secure her room, and had plenty of money to live off of until she got on her feet, but he wanted more. Everything about him reeked of utter contempt and disrespect for everything, including himself. After an eternity of barely contained dry heaves, the landlord from the black lagoon shuffled away into his tiny hut at the edge of the property, muttering at us to go ahead and move in.



Gardens, and some unexplored dome thing
The Chicken Shack was a large two story house that had been divided into half a dozen or so apartments. These apartments, or at least the one Jewels would be staying in, were roughly the size of an airplane lavatory, but more foul. The entire room was just large enough for a bed, a dresser, and a closet that didn't have enough room for it's own doors. One large white room on the end of the house served as the kitchen, dining room, and living room combined. Large windows let the sun's heat in but not out, and the greenhouse-like effect was staggering. Outside, the house was surrounded by gardens that seemed to be doing well. Short rows of vegetables provided the house with most of its food. Dozens of the house's namesake birds wandered, clucked, and pecked unhindered throughout the property. The entire house shared two bathrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls. I noted that the girls bathroom didn't contain a bathtub or shower. When I pointed this out to Jewels she just giggled and then led me outside.



Yes, it's an outdoor shower. If you can't tell, click on the image to see it bigger

A small shower head was attached to a tree just outside the main entrance. Loofahs and bottles were hidden in the limbs and branches. As fascinated as I was by the idea of showering outdoors, I thought it was more than just a little convenient that only the women were expected to use it, and that the view of the shower from the landlord's bedroom window was obstructed only by the small forest of marijuana he had growing on his ledge.

We lugged all of Jewels' things to her new room, but suddenly realized something wasn't right. The dresser was full of clothes and there were dozens of posters on the walls. Jewels went and found the landlord. He sneered as he told her that the current guy wouldn't be out until tomorrow and she'd have to come back then. I couldn't believe it. The despicable old monster had had us waste our entire morning lost in the Hawaiian wilderness, then sat back and watched as we carried all of Jewels' things to the furthest corner of the house before telling us to pack it all back up and do this over again tomorrow. I wanted to scream at him but he completely ignored everything I said. He simply interrupted my tirade to demand I help him find his wallet which for some reason he'd thrown away earlier that morning. Disgusted and defeated, we drove away, wishing more than anything that there really were deranged chainsaw-wielding cannibals out in the woods, and that they were in the mood for something greasy.

-Miles

Sunny buns and the flying flapjacks.

When you befriend someone at a hostel there's no telling where you might end up. Half the fun of staying at hostels is meeting people and hearing about the crazy places they've gone or are going and then heading there yourself. Such was the case with Jewels.

Jewels was staying at the Banana Bungalow for about a week while looking for a place to live. She'd recently moved to Maui because she didn't have anything better to do and wanted to get away from annoyances like New York and the Bush administration. Fate brought us together on the hostel's daily tour to the beach and after talking for a few minutes she decided to show me everything.






The beach we were visiting sits on the drier southern part of the island, past the enormous mega resorts and sprawling golf courses of Wailea. As the largest undeveloped beach on Maui, it is blessedly void of giant hotels, showers, water fountains, souvenirs carts, snorkel rentals, or fast food. Just green trees, golden sand, and clear blue water stretching on forever. This gigantic slice of bliss is simply called Big Beach.

Jewels had somewhere a little different in mind however. She led me to the far end of the beach where a volcanic rock wall jutted out from the trees and into the ocean. It looked totally impassable from a distance, but when we got closer there was a sort of stairway carved sideways into the wall. I don't know if it had formed naturally, or if someone had created it, but it completely hid our ascent from the people standing on the sand. After climbing up this secret stairway and over the wall, we were presented with Big Beach's mischievous younger brother, Little Beach.

When standing on top of the wall the only noticeable difference in the two beaches was size. Little Beach is only a hundred yards long, compared to Big Beach's impressive 1.5 miles. About half way down the sandy slope to the other side several other differences bounced and jiggled their way to my attention. In fact, differences were bouncing and jiggling all over. I quickly dropped into one of the only beaches on the island where local police tolerate nude sunbathing. Not everyone was nude mind you, not even the majority, but there was certainly enough skin to let me know this isn't Gidget territory. I was a little nervous at first, but quickly remembered I'm a dog and I don't wear clothes anyways. I didn't think swimming au naturale would be so different for people, but according to the humans, it is. There's a sense of freedom and mischief, and even a childish innocence. If any displays of "unsavory" passion took place on the beach that day they were far off in the bushes, well out of the sight and minds of the people sunbathing, swimming, and playing in the sand.

The real entertainment on Little Beach was the other inhabitants, mostly of the grime smudged, dreadlocked, earth-muffin persuasion. At first they just sort of sat around soaking in the sun, but as the day wore on a drum circle slowly appeared. It began with only a few bongos and a flute, but by the time the sun was setting a wild mass of hippies in various states of undress were dancing, drumming, spinning, twirling, and generally partying in that very special way only produced by a steady diet of granola, yogurt, and marijuana (Don't worry mom, I stayed far, FAR, out of contact high range.)

Most of the revelers carousaled in a more or less controlled way, but the role of wild bacchanalian woman was filled by a middle aged woman who must have been sweating psychedelics. I first noticed her drifting shoulder deep in the water for about an hour with both arms held up at ninety degree angles above her head, apparently offering prayers to the sea. I accidentally floated too close to her and she suddenly whipped around, fixing me with a wide eyed glare and demanded "Where was she?!" Speechless, I helplessly pointed towards the beach. She drifted away and then spent the next two hours jumping in circles. That's right. Jumping in circles. Wild, crazy circles. Tornadoes of arms and legs and breasts circles, giddy and dizzy. The really disturbing part of this whole performance was she didn't really have breasts so much as large day-old pancakes, and her rotations gave the impression that she was somehow trying to flip them over without a spatula. I couldn't help ponder her earlier inquiry. Where was she?

Unfortunately, but I'm sure you understand, I don't have any pictures to share with you of this unique experience. Cameras, while not expressly forbidden, were an obvious faux pax. I did however, snap this one candid shot just as we were leaving.




He must have made friends with someone from his hostel.

-Miles

Miles in Maui: Part 2. Jurasic Park, or Skull Island?

Looking upward this all seems familiar somehow, like a scene from a big-budget adventure film. I'm in the bottom of a deep moist valley surrounded by daringly steep cliffs. Sheer faces of black volcanic rock, ruggedly bearded with thick green bushes and trees, stare solemnly at one another. The vegetation defies gravity, growing horizontally over the valley. Heavy grey clouds slouch low, washing out most of the spiked mountain tops. A Tyrannosaurus Rex or King Kong could come crashing out of the jungle any second.


I am here in Iao Valley, in the western part of Maui. Fortunately the only monstrosity crashing towards me is a group of chain-smoking Japanese tourists coming from the parking lot below, not the jungle above. Iao (which is pronounced "EE-ow") Valley's abundant beauty has made it a favorite tourist stop. As is often the case with beautiful places, someone thought the natural elegance could be "enhanced" with paved pathways, steel handrails, and large brick restrooms. The someones who think these things are wrong. All this does is simply allow (or force) tourists to look at the rich lush nature here in Hawaii without risking the unbearable possibility that they might have to actually touch it too. Oh well, it's still gorgeous, but mostly when you are looking upwards. At least there are no cheesy gift shops around. Yet.

At least I decided to get in touch with nature

Simply gorgeous
Iao Valley State Park is small. It only took me about an hour to walk all the wavy winding paths, but I could have stayed all day. Iao Valley is the second wettest place in the state, and it shows. The only things here that aren't green are bright delicious yellow. Most of the water finds its way into the Iao stream. The small waterway bubbles and sloshes its way down to the ocean from towards the Iao Needle, a monolithic spike of hardened lava towering 1200 feet from the valley floor.

Iao Valley, the Iao Stream, and the Iao Needle are at the end of a beautiful winding road known as the (surprise!) Iao Valley Road. Just a little earlier along this road is Kepaniwai Park. Kepaniwai park was built to memorialize the many different cultures that exist in Hawaii. Scattered throughout the lush gardens and trees are traditional Hawaiian, Portuguese, Chinese, Japanese, and New English structures. The center of the park is dominated by an enormous banyan tree. Several local families were holding BBQ and celebrating the birth of a new family member.

The pentagon pagoda, and a home fit just for me!
Lush, extraordinarily green, and teeming with life, Iao valley is a good place to get a taste of the incredible environment and natural wonders that Maui provides. It's touristy and, I think, overdeveloped, but most of Hawaii is anyways. I suppose it's pointless to wish for pristine untouched environments in one of the most popular destinations in the world. Besides, if Iao was still in all its primeval glory, I'd have to deal with all the hungry dinosaurs and giant gorillas.


Traditional Japanese Sculpture, Kepaniwai Park

-Love, Miles