As a harbor pilot, Stuhr doesn't physically steer the ship. He reads the water and the instruments, and then tells the helmsman where to go. But not all helmsman are equally skilled and when you're dealing with crews from around the world, communication problems can arise; thus he has to make sure his orders are being carried out.

"There's error in the gyro," he says, compensating for the compass's slight inaccuracy. Though equipped with the latest in global positioning system (GPS) technology, commercial shipping is still a world of quartermasters and stevedores, where reading currents and tides is an acquired art. While a computer could guide the ship over a pre-set course, the harbor is constantly changing. The shifting ebb and flood currents, the weather, and the occasionally unpredictable boat traffic all make it crucial to have an experienced pilot at the helm. To further complicate matters, no two container ships are exactly alike-they vary by size, weight, cargo, and handling. Once he reaches the bridge, the captain briefs him on the ship's quirks.

In addition to all the factors that affect his piloting decisions, Stuhr has to deal with the pressure of knowing that a ship of this size can take miles to come to a stop. "I remind myself that I've made this trip over a thousand times," he said, well aware that if worse came to worst, an errant container ship worst, an errant container ship approaching Charleston harbor could knock out bridges, endanger smaller craft, and damage the dredged channel. Even the wake created by such a ship could cause significant shoreline damage if not carefully controlled.

After graduating, Phi Beta Kappa, with a biology degree from Hampden-Sydney, Stuhr was reluctant to go into the family funeral home business. All his life, growing up in Charleston, he has been in love with the water. Through high school and college summers, he worked on his grandfather's fishing boat. He knew the lure of the ocean wasn't going to just fade away. "I had the fever to go fishing," he said.

So he told his parents that he needed two years to work that fever out of his system.He hit the water, fishing up and down the East Coast. Soon working on private sport-fishing boats, primarily off Florida and the Bahamas, started to burn him out. "It sounds glamorous, fishing in all these beautiful places," he said, "but you're really only about 1/3 fishing mate and about 2/3 maid, cook, and repairman." He also knew that this wasn't a long-term career-those who stick around too long become warped by the lifestyle.

John Stuhr '95 pilots container ships like the Sea Jaguar into the port of Charleston.

Just as he was resigning himself to a career on dry land, he heard that the Charleston Harbor Pilots Association was hiring apprentices. After making it through the winnowing process (100 aspiring pilots competed for four slots), Stuhr had the beginnings of a dream job: a way to work on the water and live in his beloved Charleston, while shouldering real responsibilities and earning a comfortable living. The only thing in the way was the menial three-year apprenticeship, working all hours for minimal pay and taking a grueling series of exams (including drawing from memory a huge chart with every Charleston harbor contour and depth).

In September 2000, however, Stuhr emerged from all that unscathed. After 1,330 harbor trips with veteran pilots, he was licensed to go it alone on what they call "short branch" ships-those drafting up to 30 feet. Two years and many more trips later, he qualified to handle ships of unlimited draft and tonnage.

Aboard the Sea Jaguar, Stuhr maneuvers the ship under Charleston's bridges. As it approaches its designated berth, a tugboat takes over the steering. Once the ship is safely secured, Stuhr climbs down from the bridge and steps ashore, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before his next assignment.