Discover the best time of year, based on historical climate, temperature, and precipitation.
The best weather in Hurghada is from April, November, December. — consistent weather climate
🌡Hot & dry
| Score | 84 | 93 | 96 | 97 | 84 | 62 | 49 | 44 | 65 | 89 | 98 | 97 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Climate | Mild | Pleasant | Pleasant | Pleasant | Hot & dry | Hot & dry | Hot & dry | Hot & dry | Hot & dry | Hot & dry | Pleasant | Pleasant |
| Temperature | 13–21°C | 14–22°C | 17–24°C | 20–27°C | 24–31°C | 27–34°C | 28–35°C | 29–35°C | 27–33°C | 23–30°C | 20–26°C | 16–23°C |
| Feels like | 9–17°C | 10–19°C | 13–22°C | 17–26°C | 21–30°C | 24–33°C | 27–35°C | 28–36°C | 25–34°C | 22–30°C | 17–25°C | 12–20°C |
| Precipitation | 1mm 0 days | 1mm 0 days | 2mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 4mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days | 0mm 0 days |
| Sunshine | 9.8h ☀︎ 92% | 10.1h ☀︎ 90% | 11.3h ☀︎ 94% | 11.8h ☀︎ 92% | 12.6h ☀︎ 93% | 13.0h ☀︎ 94% | 12.9h ☀︎ 95% | 12.2h ☀︎ 93% | 11.5h ☀︎ 93% | 10.9h ☀︎ 95% | 10.4h ☀︎ 97% | 9.8h ☀︎ 94% |
| Wind | NW · 27 km/h | NW · 27 km/h | NW · 29 km/h | NW · 28 km/h | NW · 29 km/h | NW · 31 km/h | NW · 29 km/h | NW · 31 km/h | NW · 30 km/h | NW · 27 km/h | NW · 25 km/h | NW · 26 km/h |
| Humidity (%) | 51% | 49% | 45% | 40% | 38% | 36% | 37% | 40% | 44% | 51% | 52% | 53% |
| Day length | 10.6h | 11.2h | 12.0h | 12.8h | 13.5h | 13.8h | 13.7h | 13.1h | 12.3h | 11.5h | 10.8h | 10.5h |
Conventional travel wisdom crowns November for its postcard-perfect air, but May is the real masterstroke: the water is genuinely warm, the desert wind softens, and the tourist hordes have vanished.
Hurghada does not exist for its streets. It was pulled out of the desert gravel along forty kilometres of Red Sea shoreline, backdropped by the serrated ridges of the Red Sea Mountains, for one overwhelming reason: the water. The fringing coral shelves drop off into luminous indigo, desert islands like Giftun and Abu Ramada sit just offshore, and the sea stays startlingly clear year-round. Yet how you experience this strip of coast depends entirely on which calendar you trust. The mass European fly-and-flop market floods the city in deep winter when the air is actually brisk and the sea can feel sharp. A spreadsheet purist would tell you to land in November. But the seasoned traveller waits until May, when the resort strips exhale, prices plummet, and the marine world belongs to those who stayed.
Every weather model points to late autumn as Hurghada's finest hour, but models ignore human density. In November, every dive deck off Giftun Island is elbow-to-elbow, the marina boardwalks are choked, and the prime reefs at Abu Ramada churn with snorkellers. Come May, the picture flips entirely. The winter charter crowds have dispersed back to Europe, leaving the coastline startlingly peaceful.
May brings daytime heat that hits thirty degrees, but on this coast, that heat is an asset rather than an ordeal. The Red Sea has spent all spring absorbing solar warmth, meaning you slide into the shallows around Magawish without the sharp chill of earlier months. Out on the water, a steady coastal breeze sweeps off the northern Gulf, keeping dive boats cool while you motor toward the offshore drift dives of Fanadir.
Evenings in the older northern district of El Dahar take on a drowsy, local rhythm. The souk smells of roasting cumin and crushed mint rather than sunblock, and you can linger over sweet tea in open-air street cafés without competing for plastic chairs. April is already comfortable, but May is that rare destination sweet spot: warm water, wide-open beaches, and half-empty boats.
By July and August, the desert assertively reclaims the coast. Midday temperatures climb well past thirty-five degrees, and the sun reflects off the pale limestone sand with blinding, furnace-like intensity. Stepping outside between noon and four in the afternoon feels like opening an oven door; the heat presses down on the back of your neck, and even short walks along the waterfront in El Saqqala become tests of endurance.
Curiously, the resorts do not empty out. August actually sees an influx of regional holidaymakers escaping inland cities for sea breezes, creating a surreal contrast where pool decks are packed while open streets remain desolate until twilight. If you are here for pure watersports—kitesurfing the steady thermal winds off El Ahyaa, or retreating twenty metres underwater where the Red Sea's coral pinnacles remain indifferent to the surface heat—summer is workable. But land-based exploring is effectively cancelled.
Nightfall brings relief, but it is a thick, lukewarm kind of respite. The air barely cools, yet the town finally wakes. Pavements fill after ten at night, juice stalls blend mango into frothy heaps, and the water stays warm enough for midnight dips in sheltered bays like Makadi Bay and Soma Bay.
Autumn is the season travel agents sell you without hesitation. As October yields to November, the scorching desert furnace breaks, replaced by gentle afternoon warmth and crisp, clear evenings beneath the dark silhouette of the mountains. Statistically, November has the cleanest weather profile of any month in Hurghada: virtually zero rain, mild winds, and daytime temperatures hovering right around twenty-six degrees.
The catch is that the entire European continent knows it. In November, the town hits peak congestion. Tour buses shuttle in ceaseless convoys from Hurghada International Airport down to Sahl Hasheesh and El Gouna. Dive sites like Umm Qamar become underwater traffic jams, with chains of divers trailing across coral gardens that deserve silence.
October carries a slight eccentricity: it is virtually the only time of year when a sudden, heavy thunderstorm can rumble down from the inland mountain ranges, dropping brief downpours that overwhelm unpaved alleys before drying up in an hour. By November, the skies are bone-dry again, the climate is textbook perfection, and the magic is slightly dimmed by the sheer volume of people sharing it with you.
January and February present Hurghada's greatest paradox. These are among the busiest months on the calendar, yet for a sun-and-sand destination, the weather can feel surprisingly austere. The air rarely climbs above the low twenties, and a persistent, biting northerly wind whips across open water. Coming out of the Red Sea after a morning dive at Shadwan Island, soaking wet in twenty-degree air, will have you shivering violently before you can reach a dry towel.
Northern Europeans flee grey skies at home to pack out resorts in Sahl Hasheesh, but you will see them wrapped in fleece jackets on beach loungers by three in the afternoon as long shadows fall. The shallow inshore waters lose their heat quickly over winter, requiring thick neoprene for any serious time spent snorkeling the reefs off Abu Minqar.
March begins the thaw. The winds ease their bite, daylight stretches out toward the horizon, and the street life through El Saqqala begins to loosen up. If your ambition is exploring desert canyons on quad bikes or taking day excursions into the Red Sea Mountains, the cool winter months are wonderful for physical activity. But if you came expecting tropical heat and effortless ocean swims, the midwinter rush is an expensive misunderstanding.