With the recent donation from Cajun Navy Relief, we are now able to secure critical equipment that will directly strengthen our disaster responses. These are not luxuries; these are mission-shaping tools.

Take satellite internet, for example. For many people, it’s a minor convenience. For us, it can be the difference between a successful mission and being missing in action. In the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, when cell towers were down and local internet was gone, we still managed to push updates out to the rest of the world. That real-time communication mattered. It kept people informed, and it allowed us to get vital information into the hands of those who needed it. With this new satellite capability, we can now repeat that- no matter the condition of local networks.

Another challenge after Helene was the absence of usable maps. We were often working blind, trying not to miss roads or entire communities hidden by floodwaters or debris. That will no longer be the case. We will soon have a dedicated map printer at our hub, allowing us to create accurate, local-level maps that eliminate guesswork and keep our teams moving with confidence.

We are also becoming more self-sufficient in the field. During the Chantal response, one of our four-wheel drive trucks got bogged down in the mud. Now, with a new winch, we will be able to recover ourselves and support others who may get stuck. It’s a simple piece of equipment that removes a major point of vulnerability. In addition, a sturdy operations tent is on its way. This will give us a reliable base for briefings, planning, and coordination, no matter the weather. It also provides space to power laptops and printers, and even host sleeping quarters if the mission requires.

Looking ahead, we are in the market for a street-legal side-by-side vehicle. This will allow us to access areas that traditional emergency response vehicles cannot reach. To make that happen, we will be conducting a road trip aimed at building a partnership with a dealership willing to significantly reduce the cost—or even donate outright. Every dollar saved on that purchase means the recent donation stretches further, covering more of the tools we need to keep moving.

We know that for an organization of our size, thousands of dollars at our disposal may sound like a large amount—and in one sense, it is. But in the world of disaster response, it goes quickly. If we were given $200,000 tomorrow, it would be put to work in just a couple short months. That’s why we treat every dollar entrusted to us with absolute care. Each purchase is deliberate. Each decision is strategic.

To everyone who has believed in us—donating funds, contributing supplies, or simply cheering us on—we say thank you. None of this would be possible without your support. Every step forward we take is because you chose to walk this road with us.

If you follow our social media, you may have noticed an uptick in storm notifications. We’ve been keeping a close eye on the development of Hurricane Erin. As of this edition of the Gazette, it appears likely to miss the East Coast, but we are monitoring it closely to determine whether Grounded Boots Relief may need to respond.

If you’re not already following us on social media, now is a great time to start. That’s where we share the most up-to-date information as storms develop. The graphic included here shows the current projections for Hurricane Erin, courtesy of NOAA. Click Here for current projections.

Tokyo’s Fire Whirl: 38,000 Lives Lost in 15 Minutes
Fire whirls—those spinning, tornado-like infernos can reach up to 3 kilometers wide, with winds over 110 mph, tearing roofs from homes, toppling cars, and spreading flames like a flamethrower in a hurricane. 
The deadliest on record struck Tokyo in 1923, killing 38,000 people in less than 15 minutes after an earthquake sparked massive urban fires. Even today, smaller fire whirls threaten firefighters with extreme heat, unpredictable spread, and winds strong enough to uproot trees.
Source: usda.gov

This week has been a little busy. And by “a little,” I mean the kind of busy where you consider moving into your car just to save on commute time. It’s a good kind of busy, though. I’ve been meeting with organizations that know how to grow nonprofits like ours, which is handy because if I relied on my own wisdom alone… well, let’s just say we’d all still be staring at a whiteboard that reads Step 1: Start organization. Step 2: ? Step 3: Success.

Instead, I’ve been learning things that a year ago would’ve put me straight to sleep. Now those same things are fascinating because they mean Grounded Boots Relief can actually reach its potential. It turns out spreadsheets are a lot more exciting when you realize they’re tied to saving lives.

We’re also working on building our board of directors. Right now, we’ve got a strong little team: Sonya Colliver, Sarah Barat, and myself. But we want to add more diverse voices, more perspectives, and let’s be honest, more people to take on some of the hats I’ve been juggling. Growth is great, but growing strategically matters more, because charging ahead without a plan is how you end up as the nonprofit equivalent of that guy who gets lost five minutes into a hike.

Looking ahead, I can honestly say I’m enamored with where we’re going. I think adventurous people: the overlanders, and HAM radio crowd especially, will see what we do and say, “Wow, they’re really freaking cool.” And that’s exactly the kind of people we want. People who thrive off the grid. People who think “failed infrastructure” is just another word for “Tuesday.”

I had hoped to attend the Overlanding Expo in Virginia this October to recruit volunteers. But October is also spooky season, which, as the guy running Hendersonville's ghost tours, is my only real shot at paying my own bills. Since I haven’t taken a paycheck since Hurricane Helene, I had to choose between the expo and paying for luxuries like, you know, food. Those type expos will still be one of our best chances to meet the exact kind of folks we need, and I look forward to the day we can show off our gear to the crowd that will truly appreciate it.

Until then, we’ll keep doing what we do best: learning, building, and proving that a small, scrappy nonprofit can make a big impact. And maybe one day, I’ll even get to take a paycheck. (I hear those are nice.)