The name itself is the most substantial thing we can say about it with any certainty. In Irish, tobar means well, and the second element most likely preserves a personal name, possibly that of a local saint, though the precise identity has not been firmly recorded. That kind of quiet anonymity is not unusual among Mayo's holy wells, many of which were focal points for pattern days, local pilgrimage, and folk cures long before anyone thought to write them down, and which continued to be visited in ways that left little trace in the official record.

Holy wells occupy a curious place in the Irish landscape. They sit at the intersection of pre-Christian water veneration and early Christian devotion, often associated with a named saint whose feast day determined when the well was visited. The rituals attached to them, circling the well a set number of times, leaving votive offerings, drinking or bathing in the water, represent one of the longest-running threads of continuous practice in Irish religious life. In Mayo especially, where saints such as Patrick, Brendan, and a constellation of lesser-known local figures left their names on springs and pools across the county, wells like this one in Coolnafarna were once landmarks of genuine community significance. That this particular example remains so sparsely documented is itself a kind of detail worth sitting with.