The walls themselves are the kind of thing that stops you mid-stride: substantial, methodically built from medium to large stones laid on their sides or edges, surviving in places to half a metre in height. The huts tucked into that junction are considerably more modest, but their placement feels deliberate, as though whoever built them chose the crossing point for a reason.

The site was documented by archaeologists Quinn and Carroll in 2010, as part of an assessment for a proposed wind farm at nearby Doonens. Their survey describes two structures, both built from uncoursed random rubble, a term for stonework laid without the neat horizontal rows of more formal masonry. The northern hut, measuring roughly 3.4 by 2.6 metres internally, sits directly on natural bedrock in places and survives to as many as three rough courses of stone. The southern hut is slightly larger at around 3.7 by 3.4 metres, but has fared worse, surviving to only a single course, its eastern wall leaning against a natural rock outcrop. A spread of stones extends eastward from the northern hut into a shallow hollow; the surveyors noted it appears too wide and too regular to represent a simple collapsed wall, though what it does represent remains an open question.

The scale of the walls connecting these huts is worth pausing over. Nearly 300 metres of stone walling in total, built to a consistent width of around 0.9 metres, implies a significant investment of labour, suggesting this was not a casual or temporary arrangement. Whether the huts served as shelters for those working the land enclosed by the walls, as seasonal bothies for herders, or as something else entirely, the site sits without a firm interpretation. That ambiguity is part of what makes it worth knowing about.