It is easy to overlook: four metres across, its drystone walls, built without mortar by stacking and fitting stones together, have partially collapsed over time, leaving only the lower courses still standing to a height of around thirty centimetres. Yet what survives is enough to trace the outline of a building, a place where someone once had reason to shelter or settle on this north-facing slope.

The hut does not stand alone. Around ninety metres to the south-west lies a separate enclosure, and roughly a hundred and fifteen metres to the west-south-west there is a mound. Whether these three features are contemporary with one another is not certain, but their proximity suggests this patch of hillside was, at some point, a place of organised human activity rather than a casual stopping point. Circular drystone huts of this kind appear across Ireland in various periods, from the early medieval era back into prehistory, and without excavation it is difficult to assign a confident date to any one example. What can be said is that the location, a sheltered terrace on a slope beneath two summits that have carried mythological significance for centuries, gives it a quiet gravity that the bare dimensions alone do not fully convey.