The outcrop is not large, roughly two and three quarter metres by just over two metres, rising less than half a metre from the ground, its upper surface tilting gently toward the north-north-west. What makes it worth stopping for is cut into the rock itself: a group of Christian crosses, incised directly into the granite face, whose origins and purpose remain quietly unresolved.

The largest cross, positioned at the northern end of the exposed face, was cut with some care. A deep groove, about three centimetres wide and two centimetres deep, forms a cross nearly half a metre tall, with a long shaft descending from the transom and terminating in a secondary small cross whose arms flare slightly outward into what are described as expanded terminals. The upper arm of the main cross ends in a short bar terminal, a detail that places it within a recognisable tradition of early medieval cross carving in Ireland, where such decorative flourishes appear on stone monuments across the country. About forty centimetres to the west of this principal cross, two smaller Latin crosses, the basic four-armed form familiar from early Christian contexts, were scratched into the surface with much lighter lines. At roughly thirteen by seven centimetres and nine by seven centimetres respectively, they are easy to miss. The difference in technique between the deeply grooved main cross and the faint subsidiary pair suggests either different hands at work, or different moments in time, though nothing in the stone itself settles the question.

Sites of this kind, a marked natural boulder on open ground near water, appear across upland Ireland and are often associated with early Christian activity, possibly marking a boundary, a place of prayer, or a routeway used by monastic communities. The Wicklow mountains have a density of early medieval remains that reflects the importance of the region to early Irish Christianity, with Glendalough the most prominent example but far from the only one. This particular boulder, unremarkable in scale and sitting on open commonage, belongs to that quieter category of monuments that survive precisely because they were never important enough to be moved, built over, or otherwise disturbed.