
Lose your phone tomorrow. Dropped in a lake, taken off a table, left in a rental car in another state. Your photos are probably fine, because a photo service has been quietly syncing them for years. What isn't fine is your ability to prove you're you.
That's the part people miss. The real damage from a lost phone in 2024 isn't the pictures. It's the two-factor authentication codes living in an app on a device that no longer exists. Your bank wants a code. The code comes from the phone. The phone is in the lake.
So start there, not with photos.
Get your login codes off the phone and nowhere else
Open your authenticator app and look at what's in it. Bank. Email. Work. Maybe your brokerage, your domain registrar, your kids' school portal. Now assume that list is gone in an instant and you have no way to regenerate any of it.
Two fixes, and you want both.
Use an authenticator that syncs. The major ones now back up your codes to your account so a new phone pulls them down after you sign in. If yours doesn't, switch. Migrating one code at a time takes an hour and you'll never do it again.
Save the recovery codes. Almost every service that offers 2FA also gives you a set of one-time backup codes when you set it up. Most people click past that screen. Go back through your important accounts, regenerate the codes, and put them somewhere physical. A printed sheet in a home safe or a locked drawer is genuinely fine. Paper doesn't get ransomwared.
Your email account is the master key to everything else. If you only do one thing this week, secure the recovery path on your email.
Three copies, two kinds of storage, one somewhere else
The old rule still holds and nothing has replaced it. Three copies of anything you care about. On two different types of storage. One of them off-site.
In practice, for a normal household, that looks like this:
- Copy one: the files on your laptop and phone, where you actually use them.
- Copy two: an external drive at home, or a small network drive if you've got a lot.
- Copy three: a cloud service, which handles the off-site part automatically.
The reason for three isn't paranoia. It's that each copy fails in a different way. Drives die without warning. Cloud accounts get locked out. A house fire takes everything in one room. A sync error propagates a deletion to every device you own, which is the one people never see coming.
A copy that updates itself instantly is a mirror, not a backup. Mirrors are great for convenience and useless the moment the problem is deletion.
Photos, and doing it once properly
Photos are the emotional core of this and the easiest to solve. Pick one photo service and let it run. Apple's and Google's both do the job. Turn on automatic upload, then check that it's actually finished — a lot of phones quietly stop uploading when storage runs out or when the app loses background permission.
Then do the part almost nobody does: pull a copy down.
Once a year, export your library to an external drive. Both major services have a download or export tool. It's boring, it takes an evening, and it means your children's first ten years don't live entirely inside one company's account that you could lose access to over a billing failure.
While you're in there, deal with the photos that aren't on your phone. The old laptop in the closet. The camera SD cards in a shoebox. Your wedding photos on a DVD, a format no computer you own can read anymore. That stuff is genuinely at risk and it's the only copy in existence.
The documents that cost you a week to replace
Scan them. Your phone camera is good enough, and the built-in scanner in the Files or Notes app produces a clean PDF.
- Passports and driver's licenses
- Birth and marriage certificates
- Social Security cards
- Insurance policies, including the policy numbers and the claims phone number
- Vehicle titles and registration
- Deed or lease, and the mortgage details
- Tax returns, last several years
- Medical records that took effort to obtain, and your family's vaccination records
- A photo of every card in your wallet, front and back
Put them in one encrypted folder, not scattered across your camera roll. The point is to reduce a two-week ordeal to a ten-minute phone call where you can read the number out.
Same logic applies to your house. Walk through it with the video camera running, narrating what things are. Open the closets. Get the serial numbers on the expensive stuff. If you ever file a large insurance claim, that video is the difference between getting paid and arguing about what you owned.
Passwords, and the envelope
If you're still remembering passwords, that's the weak point in all of this. Get a password manager. Any of the established ones works.
The part specific to backups: every good password manager gives you some kind of emergency kit or recovery key. Print it. Store it with your 2FA backup codes. Because a password manager you can't get into is worse than no password manager at all, and the whole design of a good one is that the company genuinely can't let you back in.
Most of them also have an emergency access feature, where a person you nominate can request your vault after a waiting period. Set your spouse up as that person. Tell them it exists and where the printed kit is. A backup plan that only lives in your head isn't a plan.
The setup, in about an hour
- Buy an external drive with more capacity than your laptop.
- Turn on the backup tool your computer already has. Time Machine on a Mac, File History on Windows. Point it at the drive. Let it run overnight.
- Turn on the phone's own backup, and check the date on the last successful one. Phones stop backing up when the free storage fills and then say nothing about it for years.
- Pay for enough cloud storage to hold the whole household. This is the step people skip, and it's the cheapest insurance in the house.
- Set a recurring reminder for the same date each year: plug in the drive, export the photo library, regenerate your 2FA codes, replace the paper in the drawer.
Test the restore, or you don't have a backup
Nobody does this and it's where the whole thing falls apart.
Pick a file. Delete it. Now get it back from the backup. Do it with a photo from four years ago, too, because photo services sometimes only hold deleted items for a limited window and you should know what yours is.
If you can't retrieve a specific file from six months ago in under ten minutes, you have a storage arrangement, not a backup.
Do the same for your phone. Not a full wipe, just check that you know the account you'd sign in with and that you can get the 2FA code for that account from something other than the phone. That's the circular trap that strands people at the store for three hours.
A lost phone should cost you a deductible, a trip to the carrier, and one mildly annoying evening. Set this up on a Sunday and the next time one goes missing, the worst thing that happens is you have to remember a new case color.
Dean Shaw
Gear & Garage
Tests things until they break, then reports what broke first. Trucks, tools, watches, and the cheap version that costs more.
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