It is easy to miss: the collapsed drystone wall that once defined it now rises only a few centimetres above the surface, its large base stones protruding just enough to betray a deliberate human arrangement. The hut itself is modest in scale, measuring roughly three metres east to west and just under three metres north to south, with walls that were originally around 0.8 metres thick. What catches the attention of anyone who looks closely is a subtle quirk of construction: the south-east portion of the interior floor has been raised by about twenty centimetres, a small but deliberate correction to keep the living surface level despite the natural fall of the hillside.

The site does not exist in isolation. About twenty-five metres to the west lies a separate enclosure, and in the immediate vicinity to the south-east there is a fulacht fia, a type of prehistoric cooking site typically identified by a mound of fire-cracked stones left beside a trough that would once have been filled with water and heated by dropping in hot stones. The clustering of a hut, an enclosure, and a fulacht fia in this stretch of upland suggests repeated, possibly seasonal, use of the area over a long period, though assigning precise dates to any one element is difficult without excavation. Together they form a quiet record of people working and sheltering on the mountain, using whatever the landscape offered, including the flat ground beside the river and the natural shelter of the slope.