“The Last Good Spot”

Story and Photos by Corry Hatch

One summer evening in 2004 my wife, toddler son, and I took a drive west from our then-home in Caribou County. Our route back home took us northbound on Stone Road toward Holbrook. We had intended to loop back, so it was an obvious choice, yet to me it felt guided.

We never stopped along the way but took note of what we saw. Something felt good. Something exciting was happening. At the time, I had no idea what an important role this little adventure would play in my life.

A few weeks later, I wandered out first thing in the morning. It was at the peak of summer when the sun rises early. I drove through the north hills of the Curlew National Grassland and headed south on a gravel road that crested the hills overlooking Holbrook. The view was amazing: blue sky, green fields, the spray of water below center pivots almost as far as I could see. The hamlet held green trees, houses, barns, and prominent among them stood a white church and a wooden grain elevator.

It wasn’t a surprise to be back at this spot at the western end of rural Idaho Highway 38. Nevertheless, I was there.

The township was quiet that morning. None of the roughly sixty residents was to be seen.  I passed a single truck headed to a field to check water. The sprinklers were on at the church and in the park. I stopped at the bowery to get a drink and take a look around. The manicured lawn, well-cared-for pavilion and shady trees were a welcome surprise. I filled my coffee cup with water and took a walk around the park. It was pleasant, quiet, peaceful— everything I generally need and want.

Two years later, I closed on our place in Holbrook. I always say I got the last good spot on earth. It has access, water, views, potential—all the things that make Idaho and the West great.

The open landscape of dry grass, sage, and juniper-covered hills was the backdrop to our work, our building, our success. We rose and fell and rose up again. For twenty years we felt the exhilaration of achievement, the pain of failure, the market booms and busts. Marked by great decisions but sometimes poor execution, we were resilient. Freedom, the West, the American way of life, and dirt that was ours showed us the way. There was always another chance here.

I’ve been a bit of an outsider in Holbrook and have kept to myself. Not for any particular reason, but the place was a new start for me. The land presented the opportunity for a new way of life, and I’ve been content ever since in my privacy. This isn’t a matter of distrust but of awareness that here I can work for myself and flourish in solitude. I didn’t want to force myself on the place, even though the people of Holbrook are kind, friendly, and they’ll lend a helping hand. They’re strong and independent. It’s the type of place that gives Idaho a good name.  Holbrook gave all that to me, and I love it.