Let’s get the boring math out of the way so we can have some fun. The narrowest point—from Newfoundland, Canada, to Ireland—is about 1,900 miles. That’s like driving from New York City to Denver, except you’d be doing it on a wet trampoline. The widest point, say from Florida to the coast of Africa? That’s 4,800 miles—roughly the same as flying from London to Cairo, then realizing you forgot your passport and doing it all over again.
But numbers are abstract. Let’s measure it in things you actually know. Imagine you’re binge-watching a show. Crossing the Atlantic at a cruising altitude in a jet? That’s about seven or eight episodes of your favorite series—enough time to develop a mild crush on a fictional character and then feel embarrassed about it. If you’re on a cruise ship, pack about six to eight days of bad buffet decisions and shuffleboard grudges.
The “I Can Almost Taste the Bagels” Effect
Here’s where it gets personal. I once sat on a beach in New Jersey, looking east, and told my friend, “I bet I could swim to Portugal if I just tried really hard.” He pointed out that the distance from New York to Lisbon is roughly 3,400 miles. That’s the equivalent of jogging from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., but with more jellyfish and less access to a gas station Slurpee. So no, I didn’t swim. But I did eat a lot of chips to console myself.
Think about your commute. If you drive 30 miles to work each day, crossing the Atlantic is like doing that commute for 63 straight days without a bathroom break. Or, if you walk at a leisurely pace (about three miles per hour), you’d be strolling for over 1,100 hours. That’s enough time to listen to every album ever recorded by the Beatles. Twice. And then argue about which solo album is actually better.
Atlantic Sail Itinerary | Wild Atlantic Way Itinerary: Detailed 2026
