Hurghada

The reefs off Hurghada are the reason the town became a resort, and they deliver: warm water (rarely below about twenty-two degrees Celsius even in winter), visibility often measured in tens of metres, and a wall of colour just under the surface. A short boat ride reaches a string of offshore reefs and islands, with named sites like Umm Gamar, Shaab El Erg (where you have a real chance of swimming near wild dolphins), and Abu Nuhas, a reef ringed by old shipwrecks that draws divers from around the world. You will see hard and soft corals, clouds of anthias and butterflyfish, moray eels, lionfish, pufferfish, and often turtles. It is one of the best places anywhere to learn: PADI and SSI dive centres are everywhere, the water is calm and forgiving, and a beginner's discover-scuba session or a full open-water course costs a fraction of Mediterranean or Caribbean prices. Snorkellers get almost as much, since the coral starts close to the surface.

Giftun is a protected desert island roughly a boat-hour off Hurghada, fringed by some of the most photogenic water on the coast: broad shallows in impossible shades of turquoise over white sand, edged by living reef. Its famous corner, Orange Bay on Big Giftun, has become the postcard image of Hurghada, with a sandbar you can wade far out along and beach clubs offering loungers, umbrellas, and lunch. Because Giftun is a nature-protected area, boats pay a small conservation fee and are meant to moor rather than drop anchor on the coral. The classic outing is a full-day trip combining a couple of snorkel stops on the surrounding reefs with beach time on the island. It can get busy, especially at the developed beach clubs, so the quality of the day depends heavily on the operator and how early they get you there. The snorkelling straight off the island is genuinely good.

The Marina Boulevard is Hurghada's most pleasant corner on land and the natural place to spend an evening. A curving promenade wraps around a working yacht harbour lined with dive boats, luxury cruisers, and traditional wooden vessels, backed by a strip of restaurants, seafood grills, shisha lounges, cafes, and bars. By day it is the departure point for many of the snorkel and dive trips; by night it fills up with a strolling crowd, the boats lit along the quay, and waiters calling from the waterfront tables. It is more polished and hassle-light than the old Sekala and Dahar districts, with fixed-menu restaurants rather than hard-sell bazaars, though you will still be invited in at every door. A small point topped with a lighthouse at the far end makes the best photo across the harbour. It is not a sight, exactly, but it is the closest Hurghada comes to a genuinely nice place to walk, eat, and watch the water after a day at sea.

About twenty-five kilometres north of Hurghada, El Gouna is a private, purpose-built resort town that feels like a different country from the rest of the coast: a car-light network of islands and lagoons linked by bridges and little boats, built by an Egyptian developer from around 1990 in a soft, low-rise Mediterranean style. It is laced with saltwater canals (locals call it the Egyptian Venice) and revolves around three hubs, the Marina, the Downtown quarter, and Tamr Henna square, all thick with boutiques, international restaurants, and bars. There is an eighteen-hole golf course, a lagoon-side beach scene, dependable wind for kitesurfing, and a nightlife that is lively by Egyptian standards, plus film and cultural festivals through the year. It draws a wealthier, younger, more international crowd than mass-market Hurghada. You can drop in for a meal, a beach day, or a night out, or base yourself here entirely if you value polish over the value further south.

Behind the coastal strip the Eastern Desert rises into bare mountains, and the standard Hurghada excursion trades the sea for sand and sky. Trips usually bundle a convoy of quad bikes or buggies across the flats, a spin in a 4x4, a short camel ride, and a stop at a Bedouin village set up for visitors, ending with a barbecue dinner, sweet tea, a little music and dancing, and the real payoff, stargazing under some of the clearest, darkest skies you will ever see, far from any city glow. It is frankly touristy and the authentic-Bedouin framing is a show, but the desert landscape at sunset is real and beautiful, and the quad-biking is proper fun. It is dusty work, so it is a poor choice if you have breathing trouble, and the whole timing is built around catching the sunset and then the stars.