What makes this place quietly arresting is the uncertainty surrounding it: the earthworks are faint enough that nobody can say with confidence whether this was ever truly a promontory fort, the kind of coastal enclosure in which Iron Age communities would have occupied a headland and sealed it from the land with a bank and ditch, using the sea itself as their remaining defence.

A survey carried out in 2002 by Casey recorded a short, five-metre length of bank crossing the narrow isthmus, with an inner fosse, or ditch, reaching some 2.5 metres in depth. That combination, a raised bank paired with a cut ditch on the landward side, is the defining structural logic of a promontory fort, and its presence here is at least suggestive. On the interior of the headland, four small subcircular mounds of earth and stone sit near the summit; they may be artificial features of the original enclosure, or they may not be. A faint trace of a perimeter bank survives along the eastern edge, and the cliff faces on either side of the headland drop sharply away. To the north, sloping rocks at the waterline point to a promontory that was once larger, gradually reduced by coastal erosion over the centuries. A modern earthen bank along the shoreline adds a further complicating layer, making it harder still to read what is original and what is later intervention.

The site sits in that category of places that archaeology can describe but not yet fully explain. The structural evidence is real; the interpretation remains open.