The Creek and Lee Livingston are inseparable. Of late years, after retirement and home from world travel, he roams the Rail Trail, claiming every square inch as his own. Jealous, he is, of any body who lays the same claim.

Early years, when kids jumped from the tops of railroad bridges into deep holes adjacent to the pillars plied there by the builders of bridges, and when the law turned its back on such practices, Livingston and friends examined every swimming hole from Jersey Shore to Cedar Run. The intimacy of body with the creek's caresses is the reason, as an old man now, he claims some kind of spiritual ownership.

When weather permits, in all seasons of the year, he bicycles on the trail, poking along somewhere on the line between Jersey Shore and Ansonia, taking pictures of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania, its animals, reptiles, and wild flowers of the woods.