The castle once commanded spectacular views across the estuary and Killala Bay to the north, whilst surveying the sharply undulating grasslands to the south. Its strategic position was naturally fortified; a cliff face drops immediately to the shore on the northern side, whilst a steep ravine carrying a stream to the estuary protects the eastern and southeastern approaches.

Today, only the ghost of the rectangular building remains, marked by low, grass-covered stone banks that outline what was once a structure measuring roughly 13 metres northeast to southwest and 7.4 metres northwest to southeast. These subtle earthworks, rising no more than half a metre above the surrounding pasture, are all that survive of a castle that first belonged to the Barrett family before passing to the Burkes. By 1838, when Ordnance Survey officers documented the site, they noted that “no part of its walls are now standing”, though the building still appeared on their maps as a rectangular structure. By 1929, it had been relegated to merely a “site of” designation, its physical presence all but erased from the landscape.

The castle didn’t stand alone in this corner of Mayo. About 10 metres northeast of the main building, a curved stone bank encloses the head of the bluff, though whether this formed part of the original castle precinct or represents later agricultural use remains unclear. The immediate landscape hints at a once-thriving medieval settlement; a mill occupies the small ravine directly to the south, whilst a church and graveyard lie just 50 metres away. A rath, or ringfort, sits 200 metres to the southeast, suggesting this area held strategic and ceremonial importance long before the castle’s construction. These scattered remains, compiled by archaeologist Jane O’Shaughnessy in 2019, paint a picture of a once-significant stronghold that has gradually returned to the earth, leaving only the faintest impressions in the coastal pasture.