What makes the site quietly unsettling is the small, modern-looking mound of earth and stone tucked at its south-western edge, topped with an iron cross. Nobody knows with certainty what it marks. It may indicate a burial, though whether ancient or recent is unclear, and its neat, almost domestic appearance sits oddly against the battered remains of something far older.

The monument itself was recorded in both 1971 and 1978, at which point it measured roughly 22.8 metres on its north-east to south-west axis and about 19 metres across. A burial mound of this type, raised above the surrounding landscape and commanding sightlines in multiple directions, would typically date to prehistoric times, when prominent hilltop locations were chosen both for their visibility from a distance and, perhaps, their sense of elevation above the everyday world. What survives today is a roughly irregular-shaped platform defined by a low scarp, a slight terrace-like edge in the ground, running from the north-north-west around to the east and again at the south-west. Quarrying has eaten away at the south-east, south, and north-west portions of the mound, leaving it poorly preserved and harder to read in the landscape than it once would have been.