What makes the settlement quietly arresting is not any single structure but the cumulative weight of the whole: nearly half a kilometre of abandoned domestic life, spread across an area roughly 440 metres east to west and 250 metres north to south, with field walls, garden plots, and three defined roadways all still readable underfoot.

The settlement appears on the first edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, which places its active life somewhere in the eighteenth or nineteenth century, a period of considerable rural pressure across Connacht before and after the Great Famine. The houses are drystone built, meaning they were constructed without mortar, the stones carefully laid to hold each other in place, a technique common throughout the west of Ireland where limestone and granite were close to hand and lime was expensive. Each house ran to one or two rooms, measuring roughly nine metres by four, and most have a gap in one of the side walls where a door or secondary opening once stood. Curiously, a number of the external corners are rounded while the internal corners remain right-angled, a small constructional detail that gives the buildings a slightly softened outline against the rocky ground. The houses share no coherent overall plan; they are loosely aligned east to west but do not arrange themselves into any obvious street pattern. Within the western half of the cluster, an older enclosure predates the houses, and several of the buildings were actually constructed inside it, suggesting the settlement grew opportunistically around existing boundaries rather than being laid out from scratch. An associated field system lies immediately to the north-east, connecting the domestic remains to the agricultural work that sustained whoever lived here.