D. Nadler

Sierra Phantom never referred to Apartment #14 as home. It represented a loss in freedom, after he'd moved from a life in the open air to a four-walled existence. But there was a point where he felt like the apartment was survivable. He'd doused it in screaming green paint and plastered the walls with fishing flies, thrift shop paintings, and photos of his latest catches. He said in one of our phone calls, "This place is more or less like a factory." [Photo by the talented T

Rennie is not one who loves attention. But she was willing to share so much of her time and personal stories with me – and even gave in to a couple of photo ops – out of her love for Sierra Phantom. During my visit, we spent a perfect afternoon at South Lake. We took a break from our picnic lunch to pose for this photo.

This grainy image is the first photo I saw of Sierra Phantom. Months after we had started our weekly phone conversations, he unexpectedly mailed me a card and this newspaper clipping. Right away I thought, dang, this dude is a bad ass. Really, who gardens in cowboy boots, aviator glasses and a bolo tie? ... This was a big day for Sierra Phantom, and he was excited to get a bit of recognition for it. He and his neighbors had transformed a drab apartment courtyard into a commu