I am a colossal beech with a sculptural trunk, watching the ruins of the pre-Romanesque chapel of St-Jammes. At 450 years old I am the oldest tree in the Black Mountain having survived strong local winds and the French Revolution. I have seen many animals, pilgrims and hikers stopping by, and still am the place of an ancestral fertility rite. Leaning on my cane and facing the local History of this mountain, I have fascinated people locally and nationally by my presence, my aura of legends, my resilience and my vitality.