It is easy to walk past without registering what it is: the remains of a circular hut, roughly seven metres across, where someone once cut the ground away on the uphill side to create a level floor, compensating for the natural slope of the hillside. That small act of practical engineering, a shallow cut of about half a metre into the earth on the north side and a corresponding raised platform to the south, is almost all that survives, but it says something quietly eloquent about whoever built and used this place.

The structure is defined by a drystone wall, a wall built without mortar, relying entirely on the careful arrangement of stone, that has long since tumbled and is now partly buried under grass. At its most substantial it would have been perhaps a metre thick. A narrow entrance, less than a metre wide, faces south-east, a sensible orientation that would have caught morning light and offered some shelter from prevailing westerly weather. What brings this site into sharper focus is its immediate context. About twenty-five metres to the east, a relict field boundary survives, a faint trace of the agricultural landscape that once organised this hillside. More intriguing still, close by to the north-east, there is a possible fulacht fia, a type of prehistoric cooking site typically identified by a mound of heat-shattered stone, the residue of repeated water-boiling using fire-heated rocks. The clustering of these features suggests that this was not simply an isolated shelter but part of a wider pattern of activity on the mountain.