Its Irish name, Lios na gCraobh, translates roughly as the fort of the branches, though what commands attention today is less any arboreal association than the quiet persistence of its structure: a bank rising two metres on its outer face, a partially traceable fosse, and, tucked into the south-west of the interior, the skeletal remains of a souterrain, the kind of narrow underground passage built in early medieval Ireland for storage, refuge, or both.

The site is a univallate rath, meaning it has a single enclosing bank rather than the multiple concentric rings found at more elaborate ringforts. With an internal diameter of 31 metres, the enclosure is a respectable size. The earthen bank, roughly 3.7 metres wide at its base, still carries loose stones along parts of its inner face, possibly the remnants of drystone revetment walling that once lined it. The fosse, a defensive ditch outside the bank, survives only in the eastern quadrant, where it measures about three metres across and drops around 0.4 metres below the surrounding ground. Two entrance gaps interrupt the bank, one to the north-west at a metre wide and another, less clearly defined, facing north at 1.5 metres. The north-west gap may have been opened or altered in relatively recent times. Field walls radiate outward from the enclosure, and one follows the top of the bank in the north-west quadrant, suggesting the structure has been quietly absorbed into the working agricultural landscape over the centuries.

The souterrain is the more intriguing element. A souterrain is a drystone-built underground passage, typically constructed during the early medieval period and associated with nearby settlement. This one runs roughly north-north-west to south-south-east for 3.65 metres, with slightly corbelled walls, meaning the stones are laid so that each course projects a little inward to help bear the weight above. The passage is just over a metre wide and 0.65 metres high, barely enough to crawl through. Almost all of its roofing slabs are gone. The southern half of the east wall has collapsed, and the debris may be concealing the entrance to a second passage or chamber, which remains unexcavated. The description compiled by J. Cuppage in the 1986 Dingle Peninsula archaeological survey first drew formal attention to the site, noting these details with the careful neutrality that tends to make such places feel all the more quietly absorbing.