The rath sits on top of a knoll in pasture land, the ground dropping away gradually to the north while the south rises towards the north-facing slopes of the Ox Mountains. That elevated position would once have been the whole point: a commanding situation, visible across the surrounding terrain, the kind of placement that early medieval farmers and their communities favoured when they enclosed a homestead within a defended circular bank.

What survives here is a raised subcircular platform, roughly thirty metres in diameter, defined by a scarp about a metre high that merges at its edges with the natural slope of the knoll itself, making it genuinely difficult in places to determine where human construction ends and geology begins. Around the base of this raised area runs the remains of a drystone wall, still standing up to two metres high on the southern side though low and tumbled elsewhere, built directly against the scarp or the natural slope rather than freestanding. A rath of this type, one of tens of thousands once scattered across Ireland, would typically have enclosed a family farmstead during the early medieval period, perhaps the fifth to the twelfth century, with the bank and wall serving as much to define social territory as to provide serious military defence. Intriguingly, there may also be a souterrain in the interior, an underground stone-lined passage or chamber of the kind that served ringfort occupants variously as storage, refuge, or means of escape, though its condition is unrecorded.

The blackthorn overgrowth that now makes the site so difficult to approach has at least kept it largely undisturbed. The surviving wall height on the southern side, at two metres, is notably good for a structure of this age and type, suggesting the vegetation that frustrates access has also frustrated the kind of casual stone-robbing that stripped so many comparable sites of their fabric over the centuries.