When I first considered walking the Irish camino, I never imagined sprinting across the busy N51 Slane Road, dodging trucks and cars.
But it is just a small section of the earlier part of the route; most of the camino involves beautiful hikes through fairytale woods and beside streams through Co Louth.
The Boyne Valley Camino, a Celtic camino, is part of Ireland’s answer to the famous Spanish pilgrimage. Though considerably shorter at just 25km, it still earns you a camino credential. Complete it, and you can go on to finish 75km of the Spanish camino from A Coruña to the grand cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, thereby qualifying for the official Compostela certificate.
A Coruña itself has deep historical ties to Ireland, having served as the port of disembarkation for Irish pilgrims since the 12th century. In medieval times, thousands would travel from inland Ireland to Drogheda before sailing to Spain.
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In 2019, the Camino Society Ireland officially recognised the Boyne Valley Camino, a route created by a team of dedicated local volunteers. The route now forms part of a network of nine authentic pilgrim paths across Ireland, each ranging from one to five days in duration.
Despite living the first nine years of my life just a stone’s throw away from Drogheda in the neighbouring village of Collon, moving to Dublin changed me: I am a city girl through and through. Long-distance walks along rivers, through forests and around monasteries have never been on my radar, so this was set to be a challenge.
Outside St Peter’s Church in Drogheda, the starting point of the route, stands Dusty Flanagan, local tour guide and founding member of the Boyne Valley Camino. He is armed with leaflets, maps and the all-important pilgrim passport, which can be used to collect stamps designed by local artists throughout the journey. Tell anyone in Drogheda you’re doing the camino, and they’ll ask you if you’ve spoken to Dusty.
St Peter’s is best known for housing the preserved head of St Oliver Plunkett, who was executed in the 17th century for promoting Catholicism. Dusty jokes that many Irish people have vivid memories of the church, not for religious reasons, but for the terror of seeing a mummified head on a school tour.
As his finger traces the route on a map located just outside the church, the reality begins to sink in: the next six to seven hours would be dedicated to walking alone along country roads. Voluntarily.
The route, clearly signposted, with waymarkers displaying a yellow scallop shell on a blue background, forms a figure-of-eight loop through parts of counties Louth and Meath. It’s virtually impossible to get lost, though Google Maps was on standby.
Some of these waymarkers along the earlier stages of the route were knitted by another camino volunteer, Áine Walsh, in a bid to reduce plastic use. The dedication of the local volunteers shines through in every detail, from the well-designed map to the knitted signposts, to their thorough knowledge of the area’s local history.
Dusty leads the way to Drogheda’s tourist office, where one of its workers, Deirdre Tyrrell, stamps my passport and offers encouraging words before the long journey ahead. She snaps a photo of me grinning like a child, clutching the pilgrim passport.
We then head towards Horse Lane, ending up at a walkway by the Boyne river.
Dusty bids goodbye and I am left to my own devices. Operation Do Not Get Lost is now in full swing.
The earlier part of the route involved some road walking, which Dusty had pointed out on the map. Twelfth-century pilgrims would not have got the same confused looks from drivers, who were probably wondering why a lone woman was crossing the N51 on a Tuesday morning. Wear bright clothes, keep an ear out for oncoming traffic, and you will soon find yourself at Townley Hall Woods, where a designated walking trail makes for a much more enjoyable experience.
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It is in these fairytale woods where the realisation settles in that I may not meet any other walkers along my journey. You could hear a pin drop along the trail, apart from the occasional dog walker or parent walking with their children. A group of three women walking in the opposite direction tell me they “don’t envy me” taking on the full loop in 24-degree heat with the sun directly overhead. They are surprised to hear I’ve taken on the journey alone.
Walking onwards to the lonely stretch of Lynch’s Cross, dehydration and direct sunlight start to take a toll. Motivation drops, and there is no one around except cows in the neighbouring fields, and the odd car or tractor. It is a weekday, after all, with most people opting to do the camino in groups on the weekend.
Growing delirious from the heat, I begin to sing to myself, out loud. Enter the cheesy 1980s playlist, perhaps the only thing that could boost my spirits as the journey continued. The Proclaimers are up first. “I would walk 500 miles” is perhaps too corny and on the nose at this point. Would I walk 500 miles? I was already struggling with 15½ miles (25km).
Hunger strikes hard, but there are no cafes in sight. In fact, there are none for the first 17km of the walk. The solution is a quick picnic across from a field of cows, with a bag of Tayto cheese-and-onion crisps becoming the unlikely pilgrim lunch. It’s hard to say if medieval pilgrims would have approved, but it hits the spot.
Eventually, salvation appears in the form of Old Mellifont Abbey. Head guide Nichola takes one look at me and identifies me as a camino walker. Is it the sunburn beginning to form across my cheeks? The slightly delirious look in my eyes? It’s difficult to tell. She issues the second stamp in my passport, and I take in the sights of the 12th-century Cisterian monastery. Managed by the Office of Public Works (OPW), it was the first of its kind in Ireland, and is perhaps one of the most beautiful sites on the trail. It also offers a place to rest, eat some lunch and use public toilets, a much-needed respite along the otherwise sparse trail.
Back on the road, the trail loops towards the village of Tullyallen, where Aggie’s coffee truck, outside the Morning Star lounge, offers the next stamp of the day. The pub proudly displays its Stelar award, which is given to businesses that go above and beyond to welcome camino walkers. It’s the first business outside of Spain to receive the honour.
Siobhán Carolan, who runs both the truck and the pub with her husband Stuart, makes a point of welcoming each walker. “When I know the caminos are coming, I go out and speak to as many people as I can,” she says. Seeing my flushed face and sweat-drenched clothes, she assures that once walkers make it to the Morning Star, “the hardest part is over”.
That remains to be seen.
One final stop at the local Centra, located just across the road from the Morning Star, provides another stamp, and a well-deserved ice cream, which begins to melt immediately. My journey continues towards King William’s Glen, another lonely trek, this time along a narrow path leading towards the main site of the Battle of the Boyne, where a detour can be taken. Though it adds an extra 2km to the journey, it is well worth the visit, especially if another break is in order.
The site is run by the OPW, and has exceptionally clean public toilets, a luxury when you have seen nothing but woodland for the last few kilometres. The final stamp of the day is collected just 15 minutes before the visitor centre closes.
Guides Noel and Megan say many walkers commit to the extra 2km journey to soak up the history that surrounds the site. The visitor centre stands on the battleground where, in 1690, King William III clashed with his father-in-law, King James II, commanding more than 60,000 troops between them. Even if you’re not a history buff, the visitor centre has a coffee shop and stunning gardens, making it the ideal spot for a break before tackling the last few kilometres of the route.
After this highly educational detour, it’s back on the road, walking opposite the Boyne walking trail where the journey began, and passing under the Mary McAleese Boyne Valley Bridge. Though the end is in sight, energy has long since evaporated. An encouraging phone call from my partner helps to keep things moving.
Crossing St Dominic’s Bridge, the final stretch leads uphill. This last push almost breaks the spirit, but victory is in sight as St Peter’s Church comes back into view. The pilgrimage is complete. The legs ache, the sunburn has set in and the step count reads 43,450, but there’s quite a sense of triumph in it all. The certificate of completion now sits proudly on my mantelpiece, and a trip to A Coruña to complete the journey may be on the cards for next summer.
