It is classified as a folly, which places it in that loose category of ornamental landscape structures, usually erected by wealthy landowners in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, whose purpose was aesthetic rather than practical. What makes this particular example quietly odd is how substantial it is: a subcircular drystone platform roughly 11.7 metres east to west and 10.5 metres north to south, rising to a maximum height of around 2.3 metres, with a flight of steps cut into its southeastern face to allow access to the summit. Drystone construction means it was built without mortar, the stones fitted and weighted against one another, which gives such structures a certain precariousness over time. The western side has partially collapsed, as one might expect.

At the top of the platform, just north of centre, the remains of a small rectangular stone structure survive, measuring roughly 3.4 metres by 3 metres and still standing to about 1.5 metres at its highest point. It too has its own set of steps, four of them on the eastern side, suggesting it was meant to be climbed into or stood upon rather than simply looked at. A slightly battered, or inward-leaning, drystone revetment defines its walls. Whatever originally stood here, a gazebo-like enclosure perhaps, or a viewing tower of some kind, has long since come down. What the folly would have looked out over is easy enough to imagine: Lough Corrib stretching away to the west, one of the largest lakes in Ireland. The landscape around it has older layers too. An earthwork lies immediately to the northeast, and a ringfort sits about 70 metres to the southwest. A ringfort is a circular enclosed farmstead of early medieval date, typically defined by an earthen bank and ditch. The folly's builders, whoever they were, constructed their ornamental platform in ground that had been occupied, in various ways, for well over a thousand years before them.