The monument consists of three surviving standing stones, though it’s clear this is merely a fraction of what once stood here. Local memory, recorded when antiquarian Thomas Fagan visited in 1847, tells of many stones being removed from the site over the years, and a suspiciously tomb-sized boulder now sits in a nearby field fence, just 10 metres from the monument.

The remaining stones hint at what might have been a burial chamber’s north and south walls. Two stones stand together on the southern side; the western one rises 1.25 metres high and towers above its leaning eastern companion. Directly opposite, a lone 1.3-metre stone marks the northern edge of what was likely the chamber space. All three are split boulders, their fractured faces turned inward towards each other, creating a defined space between them. To the west, a slightly raised, stony area might be the remnants of a cairn that once covered the tomb, though centuries of agricultural activity have left this feature poorly defined.

What makes Carricknahorna particularly intriguing is how little has changed since Fagan’s 1847 visit; the stones stand in essentially the same configuration he documented over 175 years ago. The site serves as a reminder of Ireland’s deep prehistory, when Neolithic communities invested enormous effort in creating these monuments for their dead. Though much has been lost, what remains still commands the landscape from its ridge-top position, the outcropping rock beneath suggesting this spot was deliberately chosen for its natural prominence and permanence.