On a steep west-facing slope above the Blasket Sound, somewhere in the townland of Baile Ícín on the Dingle Peninsula, there once stood a lios, a type of circular earthen enclosure associated with early Irish settlement and, in folklore, with the otherworld. By the time anyone recorded it formally, it was already nearly gone.

The scholar R. A. S. Macalister noted it in 1899, describing a small and almost destroyed example just seven metres in diameter. Within it, three low mounds indicated the foundations of three internal chambers, the kind of arrangement that might have supported a cluster of modest structures within the enclosure's bank. The combination of interior chambers and a commanding position overlooking the Blasket Sound suggests a site of some local significance in its time, though its precise date and function were never established before the archaeology was lost. No visible trace survives today.

What makes the site linger in the mind is its location rather than its remains. The Blasket Sound is the narrow, notoriously turbulent channel separating the tip of the Dingle Peninsula from the Great Blasket Island, a stretch of water with its own long and complicated human history. Whatever community used this small enclosure would have looked out daily over that crossing, watching the weather come in off the Atlantic and keeping some kind of eye, whether practical or symbolic, on the passage below.