Sendero — A Path Beyond Code

Sendero began as one of those scrappy ideas — small enough to live inside a landing page with borrowed fonts and big enough to carry the dream of building without code. In the end, it became my first real exit.And for an entrepreneur, that’s like a first love: no matter what bigger, more complex, or more profitable things come later, the first one always clings to your skin.

My co-founder and I launched it back when the term “no-code” was still a niche oddity — half-hipster, more manifesto than market. But we felt there was something there. Something in that promise of building without typing, of democratizing the technical, of opening doors for those who had always been knocking from the outside. We saw it before it became cool.

And then, as it usually happens when you catch a wave early, it blew up. Fast. One day we were building websites for small startups, and the next we were signing contracts with billion-dollar companies — the kind with so many employees they need maps in the lobby. We were talking to teams that had outsourced their brains, and we’d show up with solutions that felt like magic.

But that was just the beginning. Because soon we stopped being “the folks who build websites” and started creating full systems: databases, apps, automations, workflows. All of it without code — or so we thought back then. Because now, with the rise of AI, the no-code concept seems to have evolved into something new: vibe-coding. A weird name, sure. But also an accurate one. Because today it’s not about not knowing how to code — it’s about feeling the solution before fully understanding it. About having a sense, a vibe, of how things should work, and letting the system translate that into logic.

That’s what Sendero was. A journey. A literal path, just like its name suggested — one that took us from intuition to validation. Yes, we worked with huge clients. But we also got to witness small companies grow from a handful of users into giants. Some of those stories, if told now, would sound like folklore.

And then one day — as it often happens when something you built starts to gain real value — the offers came. We sat down, we looked at them, and we decided to sell. To close that chapter. To move on to new ideas, new adventures. But that, as the trickster storytellers say, might be a tale for another time.

What I carry with me from Sendero isn’t the deal, or the logos, or even the exit itself. What I carry is the path. Because we didn’t name it Sendero by accident. We liked the idea of something that wasn’t a sprint or a highway — but a trail you shape as you walk it. With turns, stones, scenic views, and forks along the way. One of those paths where, even when you don’t quite know where you’re going, you know you’re going the right way.