I'm reading Life On The Mississippi, by Mark Twain. The first half of the book recounts his training as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi River before the US Civil War.

He describes in detail, and with characteristic humor, the innate intelligence and grasp of detailed knowledge required to navigate the riverboats safely.

As a novice, he was overwhelmed by the amount of knowledge needed to even achieve the bare competence of an assistant. He questioned his own aptitude and memory skills. Once he got a job as an apprentice, his progress was slow and his confidence lagged. There was a whole culture shared by the experienced pilots.

Their arrogance was well known and well earned. The best of the lot were revered among those in the industry. They had their own language, which raised the pedestal upon which they placed themselves. Ignorance of their idiom barred you from discussions. Twain was told to make careful notes of barely perceptible shoreline markers to aid in the navigation. Meanings of terms were revealed sparingly, as treats.

The shoreline views would change, depending on whether you were travelling upriver or down. Stormy weather and dark nights presented their own challenges. Twain was mocked, derided and cursed until his skills improved and he gained respect. Tylenol wouldn't be invented for another hundred years.

After the Titanic disaster and during World War I sonar developed, so these skills were less in demand. Becoming a pilot required somewhat less specialized knowledge. Pay and prestige suffered.

Today, your average fish finder device is more accurate.