That number comes from two independent observers, the scholar An Seabhac writing in 1939 and Caoimhín Ó Danachair in 1960, yet anyone who visits today will find only one possible cross-like marking still legible in the stone. A small modern crucifix has since been cemented directly onto the rock face, as if to hold the place's sacred character in position while the original carvings fade.

Cross-inscribed stones beside holy wells are a familiar feature of early Christian Ireland, where the act of cutting a cross into rock served both as a votive gesture and a way of claiming a site for the new faith. At Caherpierce, that physical record has largely worn away or become illegible, though the site's name preserves the memory of it. Both An Seabhac and Ó Danachair noted, when they visited, that the traditional rounds, the ritual circumambulation of a holy well that formed the core of pattern day devotions, were no longer being performed. A pattern day was a local festival, often tied to the feast of a particular saint, combining prayer, procession, and community gathering. Here, the association was with St Brendan, the sixth-century Kerry-born monk whose name is woven through the religious landscape of the Dingle Peninsula. Despite the apparent lapse in formal practice recorded by those mid-twentieth-century writers, more recent local information suggests the well has continued to draw visitors, and that St Brendan's feast day in particular remains a point of connection to the site.

The tension at Caherpierce is a quietly telling one: a site whose inscribed crosses have nearly vanished, whose communal rituals were declared discontinued, and yet which quietly persists in local memory and use. The cement crucifix on the rock face is a small, unadorned addition, but it speaks to a continuity that the written record alone might not suggest.