Cloudflare Tunnel

This is the map. If you’ve followed the series, this ties the pieces together. If you’re starting here, this is the whole system in one view — how my daughter’s photos and videos get from two phones to my eighty-seven-year-old mother’s tablet, sorted by month, for nothing per month. The Whole Pipeline [Dad's phone] [Mom's phone] | | Synology Drive auto-backup (over the internet) | | v v [ Home NAS: two backup folders ] <- never edited | hourly check copies NEW files (skips anything already handled) v [ Working folder: the "cutting board" ] | I open a browser gallery and pick the keepers v [ One "Import" button ] - convert videos to H.264 720p (ffmpeg) - resize photos - file into Year / Month by the file's date v [ Growth archive on the NAS ] | served over a free Cloudflare tunnel v [ Kids Player app -> "My Records" tab ] - tap a month - videos play continuously - photos drift by, gently zooming v [ Grandmother's tablet. Daughter's tablet. ] Every arrow except one is automatic. The single human step is “pick the keepers,” and it takes about a minute a day. ...

The photos were easy. The videos nearly stopped the whole project. A video of my daughter would back up to the NAS perfectly, and then, when I tried to play it in the browser, I’d get sound but no picture. Or a black rectangle. Or, for the big ones, an endless spinner while it buffered. The file was fine. It just wouldn’t play. Two separate problems were hiding here, and it took me a while to see they were separate. ...

Everything else in this pipeline runs by itself. This is the one part that needs me: looking at the day’s new files and choosing which ones are actually my daughter, worth keeping in her archive. For that I built a small browser gallery. It shows the files waiting on the cutting board, I tap the keepers, and press a button. That’s the whole job. But a few small choices made it pleasant enough to actually use every day. ...

My wife takes a photo of our daughter at lunch. That evening, my eighty-seven-year-old mother taps 2026 → July on her tablet, and there it is. No one uploaded anything. No one shared a link. The photo just traveled, on its own, from a phone to a grandmother’s screen. This post walks the whole path and tells you honestly how long each step takes. The Path, Stage by Stage Here’s the trip a single photo makes: ...

When you make software for yourself, ‘reliable’ is usually good enough. If it breaks, you can fix it yourself. You can log in with SSH, read the logs, and restart it. You are your own support team. But this server was not for me. I made it as a gift for an 80-year-old man. It holds his life lessons on a tablet in his living room. And one fact changes things: he cannot fix problems. Not because he isn’t smart. He is smart. But the moment a server in someone else’s home needs any technical help to keep running, it has already failed for a non-technical owner. ...

In the last post I handed an eighty-year-old man a tablet holding his life’s work — every recorded teaching, transcribed and searchable, in a box he could hold. It was, I thought, a finished gift. It wasn’t, quite. And the reason taught me something about what “giving” really means. The tablet was in his hands. But the web address his teachings lived at was registered to me. The account that kept the whole thing reachable from the internet was mine. So in a quiet, hidden way, it was still my server — just sitting in his living room. A gift isn’t really given until it’s owned, and to finish, two hidden things had to change hands. ...

You’ve probably felt this. Someone mentions a technology — Cloudflare Tunnel, RAG, Termux, vector search — and a small door closes in your head. “That sounds powerful,” you think, “but it’s not for me. I’m not an engineer.” For most of my life, that feeling was right. Knowing the name of a technology got you almost nowhere. Between the name and a working result there were months of study, and a level of skill I was never going to reach. ...

Every parent knows this feeling. You hand your child a tablet to show them one video you picked. One tap later, the app has carried them off somewhere else — loud videos, ads, and “recommended” clips chosen by an algorithm that doesn’t know or care about your child. I didn’t want that for my daughter. I also didn’t want to pay a monthly fee, make another account, or hand my child’s attention to another company. ...