It leaves no visible trace on the ground, and it never appeared on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps of 1842 or 1904, meaning it had either already been removed by the time the surveyors came through, or was simply overlooked. What we know of it comes almost entirely from a single observation made over a century ago, and even that observation raises more questions than it answers.

In 1916, a researcher named Condon recorded the stone while it still existed, noting its dimensions: five feet and six inches tall, four feet and one inch wide, and eleven inches thick. It stood on a west-south-west facing slope, in what was then tillage land. Condon also noted something harder to interpret: markings along the edges of the stone. His conclusion was that they did not appear to be ogham, the early medieval script in which letters are represented by a series of notches and strokes cut along a central line, often along the edge of a standing stone. Whether the markings were natural weathering, deliberate incision of some other kind, or simply ambiguous damage, he did not say. The stone has since been removed entirely, leaving that question permanently open.

What makes this site quietly compelling is precisely its absence. The stone was substantial enough to have been significant to whoever erected it, and marked enough to catch a trained eye in 1916, yet it vanished without ever making it onto a map or into any wider record. The slope at Ballyglass now holds no outward sign that anything was ever there.