Roughly flat-topped rather than the pointed mound one might expect, it measures about twenty metres across and stands only two metres high, built from old red sandstone among natural outcrops of the same rock. At its centre is a depression containing up to five flat slabs, with further upright slabs arranged into what appears to be an L-shaped setting in the south-eastern section of that hollow. A cairn, in the broadest sense, is simply a deliberate accumulation of stones, often raised over a burial or to mark a significant place in the landscape, and this one has the hallmarks of a monument that has seen both ancient intention and later interference.

The interference is, in its own way, part of the story. Whoever disturbed this cairn, probably in relatively recent centuries, rearranged its material into two separate stacks to the north and south of the main structure. The northern stack has been given a degree of care, with drystone walling built along its downslope face, suggesting someone found a practical use for the displaced stone even after the original monument had been partially dismantled. To the east, an area of ground has been deliberately cleared. None of this obscures the underlying structure entirely, and the L-shaped slab setting at the centre survives as a detail that points back toward whatever the cairn originally enclosed or commemorated. The rock outcrops surrounding it make it genuinely difficult to read where natural geology ends and human arrangement begins, which is part of what makes this summit so quietly unsettling.