The vegetation has long since taken over, smothering the interior and making any close inspection difficult. What lies beneath the undergrowth is genuinely uncertain, and that uncertainty is part of what makes the place interesting.

When a survey was carried out in 1939, the interior still offered enough detail to read. Beneath the overgrowth, heaps of collapsed stone were recognisable as the foundations of both rectangular and circular structures, and two rectangular buildings had already been recorded on the first edition of the Ordnance Survey map, suggesting the site was visible and legible well into the nineteenth century. Also noted in 1939 were mounds of blackened earth packed with shells, the kind of accumulation sometimes associated with long habitation or communal activity over an extended period. The shape of the enclosure itself is irregular, which makes formal classification difficult. Folklore and place-name evidence both point toward an ecclesiastical origin, and it is possible the site was once associated with an early religious community, though nothing has been confirmed. J. Cuppage's 1986 archaeological survey of the Dingle Peninsula, one of the more thorough regional surveys of its kind, recorded the site without resolving the question of what it actually was. That ambiguity has not shifted since.