Recently—although it now seems impossibly remote—I was lounging on the back of a boat in the Pacific. A friend from New Mexico, now a boat captain in Hawaii, leaned over and said in a low, rapt voice, “I think they’re going to let us do a blue-water swim.” I’ve spent many years of my life in coastal places, but I’m sure I looked back at her with utter confusion. “The water is so clear—there’s no pollution, no algae, nothing—that it’s perfectly blue,” she explained. “You can open your eyes underwater, and it doesn’t hurt at all.” Sure enough, the captain, a friend of hers, stopped the boat. We were out in the middle of the ocean, bobbing in a way that made our high-powered craft seem tiny. My friend and I dove in before he could finish explaining (to the paying customers) what a blue-water swim was. I just wanted to see that ocean: pure, perfect blue, just as my friend had described it. I dove—eyes open—as deep as I could into the seemingly endless abyss of color. It was silent and magical.

It’s hot. Not like regular ol’ summer hot; we’re talking desert-mountain in July kind of hot, sweltering in the shade and wishing on an Ice Age kind of hot. You need water—big, enveloping water, not your usual mid-afternoon cold tub soak (which is really more confusing than relaxing because it’s shallow and porcelain and indoors, and there’s soap scum around the rim and your scrubby sponge is all janky and matted with hair).

Staring at a killdeer skittering across a sandbar, I wonder why we don’t see anyone else up or down the Rio Grande here in Albuquerque. “Most people,” says my friend, a biologist (and an irrigator, too), “seem to think you come to the river to take water or to fish—or to drown.” We think about that for a minute, then shove our way back through the salt cedar and Russian olive that separate the river from the system of trails through the bosque.

Nine years ago, New Mexico’s Interstate Stream Commission released the latest version of the State Water Plan, a document designed to guide state and local agencies by providing a master plan for water use and conservation in New Mexico. But much has changed since 2003, and now, the ISC—the sister agency to the Office of the State Engineer—plans to release a long-awaited update to the plan.

As anyone who has spent a week outside Santa Fe knows, trends have a hard time finding traction in this city. That’s good for plagues like chain restaurants and big-box stores, bad for 24-hour gyms and specialty dessert fads. Unfortunately, rock climbing has mostly been beaten back by this aversion to development.

Yeah, it’s hot this summer, and you probably want to recline and sip on something cold in between museum hopping, gallery strolling and whatever else is on your summer itinerary. Take our five suggestions for quenching your thirst this season, ranging from legally laced margaritas to ginger-lime pick-me-ups.

SFR staff's favorite activities for staying cool when it is HOT!

This past winter, my uncle sent me a text message asking if any ziplines are located near Santa Fe. He and his family want to ride one when they visit this summer. My first thought: I didn’t know he was visiting this summer. But I quickly shook that off and dutifully set about trying to locate the nearest wire-cable attraction.

“Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha.” If you had asked me what these words meant nine weeks ago, I wouldn’t have had an answer for you. But now, sitting cross-legged on the stone patio in front of my house, facing the Sangre de Cristo mountains, I’m trying to repeat this tongue-twisting Sanskrit chant 108 times per day for 40 consecutive days. I’m on day two of my fourth attempt.

Even we summer-lovers have had that moment of heat-induced ennui, in which we run out of things to do and contemplate just sitting inside, watching the full 16-hour Lord of the Rings trilogy (with extra footage) on Blu-Ray. But wait! Your friends at SFR have come up with a painstakingly curated, totally awesome list of the 50 must-do activities in Santa Fe this summer. A six-pack of beer to the first person who can prove to us that you’ve done them all (ie provide photographic evidence)—not to mention, of course, the glorious feeling of a summer well spent. Ready…go!