But this particular hollow in the water, roughly four metres by two and a metre deep, has been marked on every edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps under a name that sets it apart: St. Kevin's Keeve. A keeve is an old word for a tub or bath, and the designation here is deliberate. This is not simply a river feature; it is a holy well of the immersive kind, a place where the water itself was the point.

The site clusters with other features tied to the same saint. On the northern bank directly above the pool stood St. Kevin's Bush, a tree that no longer survives, though the ground around it still holds the outline of what was there. A semi-circular bank, twelve metres across, is partly cut into the hillside and partly built up from large boulders and stones, with a line of dry-stone walling running within its curve. St. Kevin's Road passes along the northern side of this arrangement. The Irish Folklore Commission manuscripts from the 1930s, recorded by Lynch in 1994, capture the older pattern of use: on the 3rd of June each year, people would come to pray at the well and seek a cure for disease. On leaving, they tied a piece of cloth to the tree above the water, a practice common to holy well traditions across Ireland, where the rag or clootie was understood to carry the illness away with it as it weathered. The tree in question was known locally as St. Kevin's Tree, and its loss has left the ritual without its anchor, though the earthwork enclosure around its former site remains as a kind of topographical memory of what once happened there.