(Text by ZHOU Hui, zhouhui@qdio.ac.cn)
Hui was deploying XBTs (Expendable Bathythermographs) during the 2015 Western Pacific Ocean Research Cruise. Credit: Institute of Oceanology, Chinese Academy of Sciences
The ocean is like a chaotic yet fascinating dance floor—motions ranging from tiny centimeter-scale ripples to thousand-kilometer-wide currents twist and interact nonstop. To figure out how this vast blue world shapes our climate, we need to unlock a big puzzle: how energy flows from those massive, wind-driven currents down to the tiny eddies where energy finally fades away. The most fundamental way to address this challenge is to venture into the field and conduct oceanographic expeditions.
As a physical oceanographer, I began my first deep-sea expedition in 2012. By 2014, I had grown to lead as a chief scientist, becoming the first woman to hold that title on a deep-ocean expedition for the Chinese Academy of Sciences. This journey, however, has been bittersweet. Despite suffering from severe seasickness—so debilitating that for the first week of every voyage, I can barely eat or drink, often retching until I am spent—I remain deeply grateful for the crucible of growth these expeditions have provided.
Among all my voyages, two stand out as unforgettable. In 2016, our mission was to recover three PIES (Pressure-Inverted Echo Sounder) instruments from a depth of 5,000 meters. They held crucial data on the monumental 2015-16 El Niño event. The operation fell during China's National Day holiday, adding both pressure and a profound sense of purpose. After releasing the devices, we endured 90 agonizing minutes of silence. At dawn, we found nothing. Devastated but not defeated, our team improvised. We deployed a glider to map the surface currents and fashioned a radio receiver wrapped in tinfoil to boost our chances of detecting a signal. After three frantic hours of searching, we finally spotted a tiny white sphere 13 kilometers from our release point. It had been 40 hours without sleep, but the feeling of that priceless victory eclipsed all exhaustion.
The following year, in 2017, I led my first expedition using a microstructure profiler. We had to rent this exquisitely sensitive equipment, with each unit valued at over a million RMB. The risk of loss was immense. Few insurers were willing to underwrite such a venture, and those that did imposed near-impossible conditions. Effectively, if we lost an instrument, the financial burden would fall on me. The tension was immense. For a week, I survived on just three or four hours of sleep a night, all while battling persistent seasickness. But fortune favored the bold. The observations were a spectacular success, providing the first direct observational evidence of key mixing pathways operating far beyond the ocean's surface and its known boundaries.
I'm so lucky to have witnessed China's rise as a marine power firsthand. We have traveled from relying on foreign data to leading our own global expeditions, a testament to how far China's marine science has come.
As women in science, we often sacrifice more—time with family, pushing past physical limits—but our passion for the ocean and for our country propels us forward. Today, under the national marine power strategy, we are exploring the deep seas to unlock their mysteries.
To all the young people reading this: dare to dream, persist through hardship, and you too will help China reclaim its glory as a great maritime power.
Hui was speaking on China's deep-sea exploration development as an invited guest on CCTV in 2017. Credit: Institute of Oceanology, Chinese Academy of Sciences
(Editor: ZHANG Yiyi)