They are unremarkable at a glance, the kind of low fieldstone ruins that dot the western Irish landscape and attract little particular attention. But their arrangement, their proximity to a small spring well and water pool that lies between them, and the considered opinion of the late cartographer and writer Tim Robinson all point to a more clandestine purpose than simple shelter or storage.

Robinson believed the pair of structures to be a still-house, a place where poitín, the illicit distilled spirit that was produced and consumed across rural Ireland for centuries despite repeated legal prohibition, was quietly made. The logic is suggestive. A reliable water source was essential to distillation, and the spring well sitting between the two buildings would have supplied exactly that. The site itself is tucked at the eastern end of a terrace near the foot of a north-west-facing slope, not easily visible from any obvious approach. The longer of the two structures measures roughly 3.9 metres by 2.6 metres internally, built from a mixture of double-walling without a core, large blocks, and thin flags laid transversely across natural outcropping rock, with walls surviving to a maximum height of one metre. Its companion sits in parallel alignment, two metres to the south. Both have entrances just under a metre wide, facing east. The structures carry no firm date; the designation "indeterminate" reflects how little documentary evidence survives to pin them to any particular period.

The site sits within the broader landscape of Fanore More, where the Burren's limestone gives way to the coastal fringe. Visitors who know to look for the pair of ruins will find them on a terrace of rough grazing, the dunes and the river visible below, the slope rising behind. The ruins are low and unassuming, easy to walk past without recognising what they may once have been used for.