This is Roatan (TiR) is the visionary project by professional website developer and scuba diving instructor Steve Craig, aka TheScubaGeek.
The goal of TiR is to promote tourism and support local businesses on the Caribbean island of Roatan in the Bay Islands of Honduras through online marketing. TiR aims to be Roatan’s premier information service for travel, living, and island news. The site combines a clean modern design, advanced web technologies, and the power of Google Maps to present the beauty of Roatan to the outside world as never before seen.
The Story of TiR
Steve was sick of computer programming.
After wrapping up his Master’s Degree in Computer Science, Steve sold most of his belongings, packed his bags, and moved to the small » read more «

Florida to Georgia to Alabama to Mississippi back to Alabama to Tennessee to Georgia to South Carolina to North Carolina. Whew!
I’ve been away from Roatan for just over three weeks and my head is still spinning! I’ve taken very little time to write about my ridiculous misadventures in the meantime… I’ll do my best to hammer out some of the more amusing episodes from my trip in the next days, but for now I think my tired eyes are about squirt blood all over my Mac.
Why? Because I’ve also been busy cranking out three new websites for Roatan:

What I would give for a good night’s sleep…
My trip to Utila has worn me out. A quick three-day, two-night jaunt over to The Other Island turned into a completely mental six-day whirlwind of scuba diving, Sambuca, fried pork, urinated bunk beds, beautiful women, and very, very late nights. But more on that in a later update.
Still exhausted from the previous wild week, I decide to call it an early night. I try to finish my Utila trip report for the website, but the words aren’t coming. My battered brain and droopy eyelids prevent me from writing anything remotely coherent. (Not that much was coherent about the trip). My sophisticated, intelligent descriptions of my immature, depraved misadventures will have to » read more «

“Look, here comes that crazy lady.”
He points over my shoulder. I turn, following his black finger towards the white dress sauntering down the dock below. Crackhead Craig is right. It is the crazy lady.
Craig leans closer and props his sunglasses haphazardly on his head. “That bitch crazy, man,” he mumbles, looking at me with glazed eyes. For a brief second I catch a glimpse of the teenage boy who helped his dad raise the pigs as I watched from my neighboring hammock. Then the image withers into the emaciated figure extending his open palm towards me. “Gimme a cigarette.”
“I don’t smoke, dude. I tell you that every time you ask.”
“Oh,” he sniffs, head weaving.
The crazy lady slides up the stairs » read more «