What looks at first like a gentle swelling in the field is, on closer inspection, a ring-barrow, a type of prehistoric funerary monument in which a central burial mound is encircled by a ditch and an outer earthen bank. This one has been worn almost flat by centuries of agriculture and weather, yet its circular geometry remains legible if you know what to look for.

The monument sits roughly 140 metres east of the sea cliffs, with higher ground rising to the east-south-east. It measures just over nineteen metres across at its widest, and at its centre is a low mound about nine metres in diameter and only a quarter of a metre high. Around that mound runs a wide fosse, the encircling ditch, some six metres across, and beyond that a broad outer bank averaging around five and a half metres wide. None of these features rises more than about 25 centimetres above the surrounding ground, which gives the whole structure a flattened, almost dissolved quality. What makes the location particularly striking is that it does not stand alone. Another ring-barrow lies only twelve metres to the west, and a third sits roughly 93 metres to the north, suggesting that this stretch of coastal pasture once formed a deliberate cluster of burial monuments, the kind of prehistoric funerary landscape that archaeologists sometimes describe as a barrow cemetery.

The low profile of these earthworks means they can be genuinely difficult to read from ground level, and the wide fosse and outer bank are most apparent when the light falls obliquely across the field, particularly in the lower sun of morning or late afternoon. The proximity of all three monuments to one another, separated by only tens of metres, rewards a slow walk across the pasture rather than a glance from the field boundary.