Nobody gets past us

As Donatus Kulisch arrives at his place of work on this June morning the sun is just
 a faint glimmer on the dawn horizon – as
is usually the case when his shift starts. Kulisch is the vice chairman of the Hamburg Harbour Pilots’ Association; his place of work is the pilots’ station Seemannshöft, a listed red-brick building on a promontory in Finkenwerder. None of the forty cruise liners and commercial ships that approach the port of Hamburg daily gets past him and his
 71 colleagues. The pilots have what many of the captains on board these international vessels lack: exact and – literally – in-depth knowledge of port. “We share our information about the volume of traffic in the harbour, the currents and how deep the water is,” explains Kulisch. The sedimentation around the HafenCity and Altona is particularly high. “We receive regularly updated maps from the Hamburg Port Authority,” says Kulisch, pointing
at his Portable Pilot Unit, which displays all the relevant topographic maps.

It’s time for the morning’s first assignment. Kulisch enters the tower control room. “So, has she made contact yet?” “She” is Mein Schiff 1, whose arrival is expected at around 6.30 am at Steinwerder Terminal. “She’s just passed the state border,” says the officer of the watch. Standing behind the tower’s slanted 180-degree windows and surrounded by seven screens, radar and radio, he monitors all shipping traffic on the Elbe and in the harbour.

It is now a quarter past five. Together with his younger colleague, Focko Osterkamp, Kulisch

strides to the pier at the station where the pilots’ boat picks them up and takes them to the cruise liner. The sun starts to rise, heralding a glorious morning. The two pilots step onto the bridge of Mein Schiff 1 and are greeted by the captain, Rolf Johannes Noack. Kulisch and the captain chat briefly and conduct what is called the Master Pilot Exchange, comparing the ship’s data and discussing all the details of the manoeuvre. Kulisch takes command of the ship, which is second nature for him. As a pilot, he is a fully qualified captain and spent years as a mariner, working on ships around the world. Noack has a few minutes to sit down with the bridge crew and chat about the docking manoeuvre.

After the brief conversation at the beginning, things take place in almost complete silence: everyone knows exactly what to do, everyone is in their position. The occasional order is given and there’s a brief exchange between the pilot and the captain, but everything is calm, without any sign of tension or stress. It’s the definition
of a well-oiled team. The biggest challenge this morning is manoeuvring the ship into the turning circle, which is the only place in the harbour basin big enough to turn the ship into the right position for docking. “Three things are important here,” says Kulisch. “Position, speed control, and the right rate of turn.” He checks the latter on a screen and then describes the basic processes in detail, which for anyone unfamiliar with naviga- tion sounds frighteningly like higher mathematics. By now, a southwesterly wind has picked up.

“As usual,” comments Kulisch. It doesn’t seem to bother him. “Things only get critical at wind speeds of five and higher.” That’s when he recommends bringing in tugs to park the ship. “And above six I insist on it,” he adds.