It measures ten metres long and barely four metres wide, barely larger than a generous sitting room, and almost nothing of its original fabric survives above the functional. The two details that do remain are telling: a flat-headed doorway in the south wall, and an aumbry, a small recess cut into the wall to hold sacred vessels or a lamp, which suggests a building that was, at some point, in regular liturgical use. The rest is rubble and conjecture.

What makes the site quietly compelling is what clusters around it. To the north-east of the ruined church, a subcircular enclosure defined by a low, irregular boulder wall contains a leacht, a type of commemorative cairn or altar-like structure associated with early Irish devotional practice, often linked to the veneration of a local saint or holy figure. Within this enclosure stands a cross-inscribed pillar, recorded by Higgins in 1987. More striking still is an object no longer on the island at all: a round pebble carved with a three-line Greek cross, once associated with this church or its graveyard, is now held in the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin. That a small, carefully worked stone from a poorly preserved island chapel should have found its way into a national collection speaks to how much was once concentrated in places that now look like very little. A holy well recorded by Killanin in 1954 as lying just to the south of the church had already vanished without trace by the time later investigators looked for it, which is its own kind of footnote on how quickly the devotional landscape can disappear.