What makes it quietly arresting is the sheer density of human activity preserved around it: this is not an isolated wall in a field but one piece of a much larger upland landscape, one that includes multiple enclosures, clusters of hut sites, cairns, and a field system, all of it clinging to terrain that today feels remote and largely forgotten.

The enclosure itself measures roughly 63 metres north to south and 53 metres east to west, defined by a rubble wall whose dimensions shift depending on where you measure. On the lower, eastern side the wall is wider but barely rises above the ground surface internally; on the upper, western side, where it has to hold the slope, the internal face stands over a metre high, doing the work of a retaining structure. A well-defined entrance, about 1.6 metres wide, opens in the northern quadrant, with stone walling running out from it for approximately nine metres beyond the enclosure boundary, suggesting a funnelled approach rather than a simple gap. Inside, a cairn sits roughly at the centre, and tucked against the internal wall in the northwest corner is what appears to be a hut site, the kind of small sheltered structure, built from or leaning against existing stonework, that would have offered basic protection on an exposed hillside. A cairn in this context is a deliberate mound of stones, which may have served as a marker, a clearance pile, or something more ceremonial; the one here sits prominently enough that it seems intentional rather than incidental. The western sector has suffered significant collapse. The whole complex was identified by Diarmuid O'Keeffe in 1996, and the grouping of enclosures, hut sites, clearance cairns, a possible ring-cairn, and a field system together points to a community that worked and perhaps seasonally inhabited this hillside over an extended period, moving livestock, clearing ground, and leaving behind a layered record that the mountain has only partly swallowed.