No shade, no deck shelter, just oars. Could an ancient Greek trireme make the journey all the way to Egypt without a single stop?
If you asked a 5th-century BCE Athenian whether he could sail a trireme nonstop to Egypt, he would probably look at you with puzzled disbelief. Yet this seemingly outrageous question has a solid historical foundation. The trireme—the premier warship of antiquity—had no accommodations, no roof, no kitchen. And yet, it traveled with a speed and discipline that still impress today.
The distance from Crete to the Egyptian coast is roughly 350 nautical miles. In good weather, with a crew of 170 men alternating at the oars, this journey could be completed in two to three days. Not comfortably. Not without exhaustion. But possible. And there is evidence that in exceptionally critical missions, the ancient Greeks attempted—and succeeded at—such feats.
Thucydides recounts a famous mission to besieged Mytilene, where an Athenian trireme managed to sail from Athens to Lesbos in less than a day and night, thanks to continuous rowing, crew rotations, and eating onboard. So, the technical capability for nonstop sailing existed—provided there was a strong military or political reason. In the case of Egypt, such reasons certainly existed.
Relations between Greece and Egypt were intense and multifaceted. From the Mycenaean era through to the Ptolemies, Greeks traveled, traded, fought, and settled in Egypt. Mercenaries, doctors, merchants, and envoys crossed the Mediterranean regularly. The “fast route” via Crete and Cyrenaica, allowing sustained sailing, was a strategic choice during times of crisis or urgent need.
However, the trireme was not designed for such endurance challenges. It had no cabins, no shade. The rowers slept on deck or in ports. Water and food supplies were limited to a few days. Continuous sailing was a superhuman effort. Yet, for the ancient Greeks, purpose often transcended human limits.
No ancient text explicitly states that a trireme made the journey to Egypt without stopping. But all evidence suggests it was possible—and perhaps it was done. Not routinely. Not easily. But with determination, the sea, and the oar.
