HANGZHOU, May 8 (Xinhua) -- After crashing and foaming, the sea calmed down after about 30 seconds. The Haiying Jiake cut through the water for its first launch, as 37 men standing on the shore wiped tears from their weathered cheeks.
They are fishermen, and the owners of this brand-new oceanographic research vessel capable of sailing to the farthest waters on Earth.
Built entirely with self-raised funds by the group of fishermen at a shipyard in Taizhou, east China's Zhejiang Province, the 82-meter, 3,500-tonne-displacement vessel boasts a range of over 10,000 nautical miles and an endurance of more than 60 days. It carries the deep blue dream of the 37 fishermen, who pooled 150 million yuan (around 21.9 million U.S. dollars) to make it a reality.
The idea first came to 51-year-old Cai Yunjie, a fisherman with 30 years of experience at sea, at a marine industry seminar in 2024, where he learned that China faces a shortage of nearly 50 research vessels. This lack of vessels has left many marine science students at universities and research institutes unable to secure ship time for essential field surveys.
"The idea that scientists can't go to sea because of a lack of boats shocked me," said the tanned, straight-talking fisherman-turned-entrepreneur, who has a reputation for spotting underserved market opportunities. He spent the next six months traveling, knocking on doors of universities and research institutes to confirm the demand was real and huge.
Instead of taking on the project alone, Cai turned to a centuries-old local tradition among coastal communities called dayinggu: fishermen band together to raise money for boats, with no written contracts and relying solely on mutual trust.
"I still remember in the 1980s, six of us scraped together a few thousand yuan to buy a second-hand wooden fishing boat, just so our families could have enough to eat," said 61-year-old Lin Renyou, a veteran fisherman who joined the venture. "Every time we upgraded to bigger boats later, we used dayinggu. This time, we're not just building a boat to make a living -- we're blazing a new path."
Raising 150 million yuan was no easy feat. Cai put in more than 20 percent of the capital, emptying his life savings and taking out bank loans of over 10 million yuan. Other contributors chipped in as much as they could: some dipped into their pension funds, others borrowed money from relatives.
Not everyone was convinced at first. Young fisherman Jiang Yubo hesitated initially, until he saw Cai's thick stack of research notes and data on unmet market demand. "We fishermen can't just stick to inshore fishing forever. We need to go to the deep sea, and embrace technology," he said.
Jia Xuanrong, a veteran shipbuilder who has spent his whole life working with steel plates and engines, rejected Cai's invitation three times. "Fishermen building a research vessel? That's absurd, way too risky," he thought at first.
Cai did not argue. He bought two flight tickets and took Jia to visit a leading Chinese research vessel in east China's Xiamen. Jia walked around the ship for hours, touching every welding point, checking every corner without saying a word. On the flight back, he finally spoke: "I'm in." He later became the technical core of the whole project.
The group may not know advanced marine science, but they know ships, they know the sea, they know how to run a cost-effective operation, and they know how to keep a ship safe through storms.
They spent more than 60 percent of the total budget on core components including the propulsion system, power generators and research equipment, while keeping non-essential expenses like living quarters decoration to a minimum.
"The design blueprint of a research vessel has more than 2,000 pages, far more complex than a commercial cargo ship, but these fisherman investors kept strictly to their principle of 'no compromise on core equipment, no waste on redundant input,'" said Wang Haozhao, chief designer from an ocean engineering technology research institute in Fujian Province. "They calculate costs more carefully than professional investment managers."
Jia used his decades of shipbuilding experience to full effect. In April this year, he led workers to install an 18-tonne propeller through the night for five hours, achieving zero error in alignment with a tolerance margin of only a few centimeters, a feat that impressed even the shipyard's professional engineers.
"Fishing boats value durability, research vessels value precision. We know sea conditions and waves, so many of our tweaks based on sailing experience make the ship more stable and suitable for open-ocean research than the original blueprint," Jia said.
"What these fishermen have done is unprecedented in terms of vision and courage. They don't know the most about scientific research, but they know the market and operation best. This private-funded, privately-run model is their unique advantage," said Wang Ruifei, a professor at the Ocean College of Zhejiang University.
Han Xiqiu, China's first female chief scientist on oceanographic expeditions from the Second Institute of Oceanography under the Ministry of Natural Resources, noted that the vessel has created a new model that integrates private capital with the country's national marine strategy.
For Cai, the logic is simple: "The country needs research vessels, we have the ability to build them, and the operation can be profitable. That's the best kind of business. The stronger our country gets, the farther our ship can sail."
He is already planning for a second and third vessel, to build a small fleet that can lower operational costs and meet diverse client needs. "We're the first to crack this market. As long as we keep our service good, costs low and reputation solid, competitors won't easily take our share," he said.
The lives of all 37 fishermen have been tied to the sea for generations: their fathers were fishermen, their grandfathers were fishermen, who made a living on rickety wooden boats. They hope their children and grandchildren will sail this research vessel to the other side of the Pacific one day.
When the ship's whistle blew on launch day, Lin stood in the crowd, watching the vessel float steadily on the water. "I've watched hundreds of ships launch in my life, all going to sea to catch fish," he said. "This one is different." ■
