The castle remains sit roughly 100 metres north of the Pollmounty River, perched at the upper edge of a steep scarp that drops down to the water below. Today, dense overgrowth has claimed much of the site, which now forms part of an abandoned farmstead’s field boundary system, with a small stream running about 20 metres to the east.

What survives of this once formidable rectangular fortress tells a dramatic story of its demise. Writing in 1886, historian Comerford observed clear evidence that the castle had been destroyed by gunpowder, noting massive chunks of wall, some weighing several tons, that had been blasted up to 20 feet from their original positions. The mortar binding these displaced fragments proved so robust that even the smallest stones couldn’t be removed without considerable force. Today, only a 7-metre stretch of the northwest wall remains standing, along with what appears to be an attached section of the northeast wall, both constructed from roughly coursed granite rubble with split pinning stones set in mortar. These surviving walls, measuring 0.9 metres thick and reaching heights of around 2 metres, rest on a low plinth that projects outward by about 10 centimetres.

The remaining architecture offers tantalising glimpses of the castle’s original layout and construction. Three broken stone stair treads can still be seen rising northward along the interior of the northwest wall, remnants of what Comerford described as a stone stairway. Just outside the wall, where it merges with a later field boundary, lies a substantial architectural fragment; a large rebated and chamfered jambstone from a doorway, measuring 1.2 metres long and tapering from 59 to 50 centimetres in width. This hefty piece of carved stone, 40 centimetres thick, serves as a final reminder of the castle’s once-grand entrances.