What makes it particularly odd is its relationship with the ruin immediately beside it: the kiln itself forms the northern wall of a derelict coastguard station, two pieces of Victorian coastal infrastructure fused into a single crumbling compound.

Lime kilns were a common feature of the Irish countryside and coastline from the seventeenth century onward. The process involved burning limestone at high temperatures to produce quicklime, which farmers spread on fields to reduce soil acidity and improve yields. Coastal sites were practical choices, since limestone and fuel could be delivered directly by boat. This particular kiln at Nohaval follows the standard form: a funnel-shaped bowl at the top where the limestone and fuel were loaded, and a draw arch at the base where the burnt lime was raked out. Here, the arched recess at the front measures two and a half metres wide, its upper arch cut from sandstone with a brick arch set directly beneath it, though the recess itself is now partially infilled with rubble. The top of the kiln is enclosed by a wall, and the whole structure sits facing east into the coastal air. One telling detail is its absence from the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, which suggests it was constructed after that date, placing its origins in the latter half of the nineteenth century, a period when the adjacent coastguard station would also have been in active use.

The kiln sits embedded in its slope with the roofless coastguard station alongside it, and the overgrown funnel gives the upper portion an almost domestic quality at first glance. The layering of sandstone and brick in the draw arch is worth a close look, the two materials speaking to different phases or methods of construction within a single opening.