This rugged landscape, measuring roughly 700 metres north to south and varying between 50 and 220 metres east to west, contains an extraordinary concentration of archaeological sites that tell the story of centuries, perhaps millennia, of human occupation. The area’s natural defences are formidable; sheer cliffs plunge into the ocean on most sides, whilst narrow isthmuses create natural bottlenecks that ancient inhabitants fortified with impressive earthworks and stone structures.

The archaeological remains here range from the relatively recent to the potentially prehistoric. Near the entrance to the peninsula, a grass-covered stone wall marks what historical records suggest was once the site of a castle, mentioned in the Civil Survey of 1654-56 as a ‘Little Castle’ and described by antiquarian John O’Donovan in 1835 as a modern square castle of lime and stone, though no visible traces of this structure remain today. Further into the complex, visitors encounter a remarkable defensive system known locally as ‘Balor’s Fort’, named after the fearsome one-eyed giant of Irish mythology. This consists of four massive earthen banks with three intervening ditches, rising progressively with the natural slope and showing evidence of stone revetment. A narrow causeway cuts through these defences, tapering from five metres wide on the outer side to just two metres on the inner, controlling access to the protected area beyond.

Within these defences lies perhaps the most intriguing feature: at least twenty surviving hut circles scattered across a south-facing slope. These structures, typically circular or oval in plan with a maximum diameter of about ten metres, consist of earthen and stone banks up to three metres wide, built directly on the rocky surface before or during the early development of the island’s turf layer. A rock-cut well near one of the huts suggests this was once a thriving community. The easternmost section of the peninsula, accessible only by crossing another rock-cut fosse, contains further evidence of habitation including a collapsed stone enclosure perched precariously on the cliff edge. Local tradition offers little explanation for these structures, though three depressions are romantically known as ‘Diarmuid and Grania’s beds’, referencing the legendary lovers from Irish mythology. The entire complex presents a fascinating puzzle; its elaborate defences and numerous dwellings suggest this windswept promontory once supported a significant population, taking advantage of its natural isolation and commanding views across the North Atlantic.