The building measures roughly five metres east to west and less than three metres north to south internally, its walls constructed in a double-skin technique: large outer slabs enclosing a rubble core, a method of building that appears across many periods of Irish history and so refuses to yield a date. The entranceway, less than a metre wide, opens midway along the north wall, and inside, a subsidiary wall running north to south appears to have divided the western half of the interior into a separate space, now filled with collapsed rubble.

What makes this structure quietly compelling is less the building itself than its setting within a denser landscape of occupation. It sits near the centre of a cluster of related features, enclosures, field walls, and further hut-sites, all grouped together on this same coastal ledge. The cliff behind rises seven to eight metres, and the ground below opens towards the dunes and the river. Someone, at some point, chose this particular shelf of land carefully, perhaps for its shelter from prevailing Atlantic weather, perhaps for its proximity to the river and the shore. The surrounding enclosures suggest a working landscape rather than a single episode of habitation, though without excavation or dateable material the full sequence of use here remains opaque. What can be said is that this small house, however ruinous, was not built in isolation.