I’ve been obsessed with the new podcast What to Carry, What to Burn. The show is about wilderness survival, and it’s an addictive listen — long-distance dogsled musher Blair Braverman dives deep into historical disasters to illustrate how survivors made it through the unthinkable: plane crashes, shipwrecks, madness. In each well-researched episode, Braverman illustrates how a person’s chances of survival depend in part on what they have with them (carry) and what they’re willing to leave behind or consume (burn).
That Saturday when wildfires ripped through Spokane, when my phone and the phones of everyone within earshot provided a Greek chorus of Watch Duty alarms, the phrase “what to carry, what to burn” followed me as I struggled to comprehend the size, speed and destruction of the Old Trails, Autumn Lane and Fairview fires. To be clear, I wasn’t near any of them — the closest was six miles away. An alarm would go off. I’d think, “what to carry, what to burn.” There was a fire last summer, much closer, where the dry, grassy bluff meets High Drive. Another alarm. What to carry, what to burn. Take the clothes? The art? The violin I never play?
I’m still surprised by what I would leave to burn: autographed books, boxes of unsorted photos, anything that could be described as a tchotchke. The things I would carry with me are things that matter to my life right now: my laptop charger, my dog’s favorite toy, a small knitting project for my nervous hands. I couldn’t stop looking at my phone, waiting, I guess, for some notification that would tell me what to do. Between every real person’s post on Facebook was a targeted ad. A silicone purse that floats. Fidget rings that look like real jewelry. A 30% off sale for a spinning bookcase I already own. My pre-internet brain stumbled under the onslaught of both important and meaningless information…