Although I live in a coastal city, I have little knowledge of marine life and what goes on in and around Jacksonville’s major waterways, the St. Johns River and the Atlantic Ocean.

Sure, I stop to watch fishermen cast their rods off bridges and piers sometimes, and I marvel at large vessels in the ocean occasionally when I’m spending a lazy afternoon on one of the local beaches, but of the cultural and economic implications of this mysterious liquid landscape, I am mostly ignorant.

While writing an article recently, I interviewed a nurse who compared her role at a local hospital to the navigators who guide ships up the St.  Johns River.

What? Really? I didn’t know this.

When I got off the phone, I began searching for these expert navigators.

Eventually, I found the St. Johns Bar Pilot Association. I called them immediately.

#1) I wanted to use this information as an analogy in my story and needed help with the terminology, and

#2) I was riveted.

Within an hour, Captain Tim McGill returned my call and patiently explained the role of the St. Johns Bar Pilots.

When large commercial ships enter the murky waters around Mayport, a specially licensed mariner boards the towering vessel in the open seas, takes command of the boat and guides it up the St. Johns River.

These highly skilled harbor pilots use their knowledge of the river’s currents, bottom contours and landmarks to ensure those foreign to the hydrography reach their marine terminal safely.

After expressing great interest in the work they do, Capt. McGill graciously invited me to witness the operation firsthand.

Luckily, we picked a bright, sunny day in early January for my first insight into harbor activity. The waters were relatively calm, though nearly black. It’s hard to believe these pilots know what’s down there.

As the 53-foot pilot boat rolled past the breakwater into the Atlantic Ocean, I clutched the handrail and braced myself against the erratic up and down jostling.

Capt. McGill grinned. “This is a good day.”

Once in the open sea, the water color cleared a bit, but it was still impossible to see what lies beneath. Pilot boat captain Chris Savitz pointed out dolphins as they broke the surface of the water only to dive right back into the shadowy depths.

All the while, Savitz steered toward a Chinese cargo ship about ½ mile offshore.

As we neared the ship, Savitz passed the port side, steered around the back of the ship and edged as close as possible to the starboard (right) side of the ship. Captain Hardee Kavanaugh effortlessly climbed on top of the pilot boat and prepared to board the mammoth vessel using a ladder the crew had tossed over the side.

By far, the most dangerous aspect of the job is boarding the large ship. Oftentimes, the pilot climbs up the side of the ship on a rope ladder, which is unstable on warm, sunny days and treacherous in high winds and heavy rains.

In addition to the unpredictability of the ladder, both boats are moving when the pilot transfers from the pilot boat to the ship. Although traveling at about 10 knots (11.5078 mph), the pilot still has to time his movements carefully when leaping to the ladder.

Capt. McGill helped me to the back of the pilot boat, so I could take photos of Kavanaugh climbing onto the ship. Quite honestly, I could not walk straight, and I suddenly understood Johnny Depp’s take on Captain Jack Sparrow as a drunk Keith Richards. I’m amazed that these guys do this every single day.

I had to get past a Holy Shit moment before I could raise my camera to snap shots, and there was just one thought going through my mind as I watched Kavanaugh. It reverberated over and over—Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god.

As he reached the top, Capt. McGill and I returned to the interior of the boat, and Savitz headed back to Mayport leaving Kavanaugh to guide the ship to its berth.

Though the pilots provide a service for the captains of commercial vehicles arriving from all over the world, McGill says their first duty is to protect the port, the coastal environment and the lives of Jacksonville residents. On duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, harbor pilots are the watchdogs of the major entryway to Jacksonville from the Atlantic Ocean.

Despite the inherent dangers of the job, the rigorous training required, and the, often, undesirable working conditions, competition is fierce for these highly coveted pilot positions. There are just 14 pilots in the Jacksonville area licensed to perform the task.

I am eternally grateful to Captain McGill and Chris Savitz for giving me a glimpse of “real life” on the First Coast. Few people know that these harbor pilots are out there every day guiding ships in and out of the St. Johns River, and even fewer get to witness it firsthand. I feel both privileged to have been one of the few and humbled by the bravery of these unsung heroes.

Unfortunately, you won’t find this tour listed in any regional travel brochures, which is a shame really. This was one of the most fascinating experiences I’ve had since returning to Jacksonville two years ago.