As one of the fastest fish in the sea, tuna can swim nearly 50 miles per hour. The largest species, the Atlantic bluefin, and grow as long as 15 freakin’ feet.
In short, tuna are incredible, as this captivating profile by Katherine Rundell so deftly proves: “If you land a big tuna after a six-hour fight, fight him man against fish when your muscles are nauseated with the unceasing strain, and finally bring him alongside the boat, green-blue and silver in the lazy ocean, you will be purified and be able to enter unabashed into the presence of the very elder gods, and they will make you welcome.”
I work as a volunteer youth leader in my not-so-spare time. Last week, I offered to chaperone a campout for the following Friday, even though I hadn’t been camping in more than five years (note: I define camping as at least sleeping in a tent).
To be honest, I initially decided to go to merely show my support for the younglings. Up until then, I had largely written-off camping as a boring activity I’d like to avoid in favor of sleeping on a comfy Serta mattress in a controlled environment.
I have since changed my mind, however, taking a strong liking to the removal of technology and simple satisfaction found in pitching a tent, cooking a limited meal, and surrounding a fire with friends. My recent experience was so positive, in fact, that I convinced Lindsey to let me splurge on a complete camping set the following Saturday.
Suffice it to say I’ll be going more frequently now. I’m still camping retarded, but I’m anxious to become one with nature again… and then return to my comfy Serta.
