This isn’t just a case study, a simple show and tell, or a “Hey, lookie over here at what I did!”
No.
This is a Field Guide on one client going from a genuine, wtf moment of “Something has just got to give,” to a “fuck yes” partnership.
What happens when a visionary nonprofit founder has three brilliant– albeit crazy, and ambitious– missions, one antiquated website, and a hurricane season barreling down? They reach out. They holler for help, but what comes back?
A dead machine style agency just emails a quote.
A cookie-cutter consultant will send a ‘best practices‘ PDF…
and a request to join their email list, and to subscribe to this, that, and the other funnel.
But a genuine support crew says “We’re on it,”’ gets on a plane, and starts doing the damn work.
This is the long-form, nitty-gritty story of our partnership with the heroes at Sail Relief Team and Community Through Colors. It’s the messy middle– but honestly, sometimes it’s smack dab in the middle of the mess where you find what you need to create something amazing. This is the story of how we helped build a digital base camp worthy of their mission.
And for you? This is your insight into how we work to help them as they help so many others.
You Can't Map a Trail You Haven't Walked
Okay, so to fully understand our partnership with the nonprofits we work alongside in Puerto Rico, you have to understand the terrain our partners navigate every single day.
Here’s a touch of that reality:
After Hurricane Maria, it took roughly 11 months for the U.S. government to “officially” restore power to all of Puerto Rico. That means 11 months of an unstable and unreliable system that literally “powered” crucial communications, clean water availability, maintained medical assistance, and was needed for the general distribution of essential supplies. That means 11 months, completely cut off, feeling like the “last mile” community that is so often forgotten.
This is where it all breaks down.
It’s systemic failure.
It’s the flat apathy that forgets an entire community the second the news crews leave.
But this isn’t a story about victims. Oh no, no. See this is a story about heroes.
This is a story about the Sail Relief Team. They didn’t wait. They built their own grid. They engineered mobile solar trailers— their own operational base camps of ingenuity— to bring power and clean water to the exact communities the system forgot.
This is where it all breaks down.
It’s systemic failure.
It’s the flat apathy that forgets an entire community the second the news crews leave.
But this isn’t a story about victims. Oh no, no. See this is a story about heroes.
This is a story about the Sail Relief Team. They didn’t wait. They built their own grid. They engineered mobile solar trailers— their own operational base camps of ingenuity— to bring power and clean water to the exact communities the system forgot.
And this is why we became their Support Crew.
When we first saw their digital footprint— that one, antiquated website, that hadn’t quite grown to hold all the expansive, hopeful ideas of what can actually be done to make change— we knew we had a different approach to take. Their brilliance in action was being choked by a website that could truly do so much more than it was.
We started up in the classic cookie-cutter way. Ya know, the email chain on repeat, “per my last email” framing every drafted reply you have running through your head. We really did try to fix it from afar, to deliver it easy peezy lemon squeezy from a distance, to not get in the way or to make anything harder than it needed to be.
We tried to make the old way– the endless email way– work. And it failed.
Why? Because Oscar, that ambitious founder of the nonprofits, was spread too thin doing all the hands-on work to answer another freaking email.
So, as we do, we remapped the heck out of the approach. We realized, Emails just don’t cut it.
Lucky for us, Oscar, being that special kind of visionary and connector that he is, did his work: he built a bridge. He tapped on another nonprofit organization designed to do all that wonderful dot connecting that could fly our crew out to him.
Of course, we said “yes” in a heartbeat.
We showed up. We helped on the farm. We did the manual labor. We delivered solar panels to the local emergency center and to the dialysis center on Vieques. We loaded and unloaded solar support at every point we could. And from what we saw by plugging directly into their own missions, we knew things would be a little different than that first email.
We saw the real messy middle.
We saw three brilliant, interconnected missions: the umbrella nonprofit, Community Through Colors, that paved the way for the solar initiative of Sail Relief Team, and the application of food sovereignty and ecological resilience of La Finca de Hamberto.
We saw how much
“Relief, Recovery, and Resilience”
was threaded through every step of their vision for a stronger Vieques– for stronger communities everywhere they could reach.
And that’s when we knew. This isn’t just one map, one website, one center point of three unique missions that deserve their own space to be honored. This is three. And their mission deserves three Signal Fires.
Honoring the Mission by Clarifying the Map
So, at this moment, we were there. We were another set of boots on the ground. We gathered gear, listened to the stories, and we captured the authenticity of each heart-driven “why” in writing and on film. We saw the terrain. We saw the three distinct, brilliant missions.
But we had that one map conflict.
Oscar’s vision was holistic. In his brain, it all made sense: all three missions were born from the original spark of Community Through Colors. He wanted them housed in one digital space.
And a cookie-cutter agency would have said, “Yes, sir.” And they would have built one dead machine of a site.
But my Support Crew brain— my whole brain, the one with eyes and ears connected to it— screamed ‘hell no.’
-> My design brain knew it would be messy and confusing.
-> My technical SEO brain knew none of the missions would get the Signal Fire they deserved.
-> My strategic brain knew the terrain of funding had changed, and would only get harder from here.
See, with the state of the world as it is, grant funding isn’t quite what it is anymore. And, honestly, we weren’t grant writing or trying to position the chaotic shell of all three beautiful missions to be awarded grants as they currently sat online, lost in the pages of one site. We were talking to private donors, while still talking to the individual communities that Oscar and his missions were set to serve.
The thing about private donors though? They are people, too. And people don’t read and navigate unknown territory very well.
My honoring-what’s-in-front-of-me brain knew this: you can’t ask a donor to find a single “take my money, yes, I’ll support in any way I can” button on a site that has been built for three different initiatives.
This was my “wait a minute…” moment.
So, we had the conversation. And in all honesty, this is where my own little saying comes from– this isn’t about “divide and conquer”. Nope, this is a “divide and specialize” moment. Even with all the nerves building up in telling Oscar the reality that this project was much bigger than we originally thought, I knew one thing: Oscar has a mission, and if this was going to help him help others that much more, he was going to receive the perspective with an open mind.
And he did. He trusted the “what”, the “why”, and the “how” of everything we presented. The new direction was set, and work was set out before us (on top of the work we were getting down and dirty doing onsite in Vieques).
Was this more work? Fuck yea it was.
It meant three brand kits.
Three domains.
Three full websites instead of just a few pages trying to capture the depth and extent of what each initiative had set in motion, from past to future.
And we still said, “Aye, aye capt’n. Let’s freakin’ go.”
Because a Support Crew doesn’t do what’s easy. We do what works. And what works is giving each of these organizations– and the communities they serve– their own spotlight.
You Don't Wait for 'Perfect' When the Hurricane Is Coming
When we were in it, I mean we were in it deep.
We came back to Oregon. We built and adjusted, designed and optimized, but we came to the edge again. We needed clarity but the email thread was fraying at the end. Oscar needed help, and time was winding faster. The projects never stopped, the dreaming never slowed. And, in all honesty, the hurricane season wasn’t about to take a year off.
We needed answers, and he needed help.
So we went back out. We booked another flight. We built more on the land, talked more with the folks that are actually a part of the communities being helped (yay, for all those spanish classes coming in hand!) We would wake up early, climb out of our bug nets and hammocks, set up our computers and bust out as much of the digital work we could before the tools would come on the scene. At the end of the days spent building, we would have family style dinner, and get right back into it.
With even more pictures to edit, and questions that were answered, we headed back home. We had the last bit set out to be completed for all three sites.
I mean, at that point, if we had just one little question here and there, how hard would it be to get a quick answer?
Well, like any nonprofit focused on disaster relief that is encapsulated in a season, with that very season coming fast and hard, you start to realize, the terrain is always changing.
Hurricane season was quickly approaching. Hurricane Melissa—a historic, devastating hurricane— was barreling down.
The detached agency answer?
“We’re blocked. We can’t launch without the final assets. Send your thoughts and prayers, and hope for the best, I guess.“
The Support Crew answer?
“We got this. Oscar trusts us, let’s take a page out of his book.”
We trusted the partnership. We had to trust the map we’d all built to that point.
After so many months working side by side with Oscar, we knew the mission. We knew we could fill in the blanks. I mean, in all reality, we are kinda known for taking what is shown to us, and making it into something that truly and authentically communicates all those late night chats of visions and hopes, bringing those dreams to life.
As the mapmakers we are, we know the terrain will always change. We know trails get washed out, paths get rerouted.
At that point the mission was to just go– get the sites live and get them the attention they needed as they prepped for what was coming across the radar.
We had to amplify awareness and get donors to the Sail Relief Team… not just for Puerto Rico, but so they could help their neighbor in need: Jamaica.
This was a Support Crew doing its damn job– I mean, c’mon, its in the name. We were supporting in all the ways we could.
So, I turned on my headphones, put my head down, and closed the loop.
This was the real test. This was the 19-hour work days with poison oak all the way up to my eyeballs. This was the real trusting the process moment. This was the moment of clarity and confidence in everything we had built together.
It wasn’t the exact version we had originally sketched out, and talked through, time and time again. But we did everything we could to get their Signal Fire lit before the storm hit.
Heroes Shouldn't Have to Be Digital Experts
It’s a fun story and all, but I’m sure you’re asking, “Why do they work this way?”
Why the on-site manual labor just to build a website?
Why the refine and repeat jam sessions?
Why the 19-hour days to light a Signal Fire?
Because the system as we know it is broken.
It forces the NPO heroes to also be cookie-cutter digital experts.
It forces visionaries to become grant writers, and front-line responders to become SEO specialists.
That’s not a map, or a path forward. That’s a dead machine.
We’re here to be the Support Crew. We’re here to help remap a digital way forward, in the direction you actually want to move. We’re here to do the “nitty-gritty” work—the real “messy middle”— so our partners can do theirs. Being able to help on-site, and giving time away from our computers to lend a hand shows that we don’t just want to build them a website. No, we want to show them we believe in the work they do so damn much we want to capture it for the true expression of what it is: their visions for a better tomorrow, today.
Our job is to remap their terrain and build the digital base camp they deserve.
And now, our only job is to pass the flare gun.
This isn’t a case study. This is a call to action.
The Signal Fire we lit is burning. The Sail Relief Team is on the ground, today, doing this work.
Today, and every day until Giving Tuesday, our only ask is that you support our partner.
In their voice, their request of us all:
"We are asking for your support today because time is short. Even a small contribution makes a real difference: $25 helps ship wiring and connectors, $100 supports components, and $1,500 funds a full solar kit. Together, your donations bring light, communication, and hope..."
And if you are one of those visionaries with a vision bigger than where it sits online today…
If you’re tired of cookie-cutter agencies and the endless email threads…
You’ve found your Support Crew.
Wave us down.
