Snow rollers are nature’s snowballs, formed when high winds roll a chunk of snow along the surface, allowing it to accumulate more and more material. They occur relatively rarely because their appearance is the culmination of several specific meteorological factors. To form rollers, the ground needs to be icy, with a layer of loose, wet snow above the ice. And, of course, it needs to be windy enough to move the snow without being so windy that snow breaks up. In the photos above, the snow roller got too large for the wind to continue moving it, but the wind didn’t stop blowing. Instead, the snow roller became an obstacle to the flow and a horseshoe vortex formed at its base. The spinning of the vortex dug out the trench in front of and along the sides of the snow roller. This same effect is often seen on the windward side of trees in winter. (Photo credit and submission: S. Benton)
The daily ebb and flood of the tides results from the competing forces of the Earth’s rotation and the sun and moon’s gravitational pull on the oceans. In a few areas, the local topography funnels the incoming water into a tidal bore with a distinctive leading edge. The photo above comes from the Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet in Alaska, where bore tides can reach a height of 7 ft and move as quickly as 15 mph. For surfers, the bore can provide a long ride–40 minutes in this case–but they can be extremely dangerous as well. Bore tides are associated with intense turbulence capable of ripping out moorings and structures; the waves are often accompanied by a roar caused by air entrainment, impact on obstacles, and the erosion of underlying sediment. (Photo credit: S. Dickerson/Red Bull Illume; via Jennifer Ouellette)
This high-speed video of a bullet fired into a water balloon shows how dramatically drag forces can affect an object. In general, drag is proportional to fluid density times an object’s velocity squared. This means that changes in velocity cause even larger changes in drag force. In this case, though, it’s not the bullet’s velocity that is its undoing. When the bullet penetrates the balloon, it transitions from moving through air to moving through water, which is 1000 times more dense. In an instant, the bullet’s drag increases by three orders of magnitude. The response is immediate: the bullet slows down so quickly that it lacks the energy to pierce the far side of the balloon. This is not the only neat fluid dynamics in the video, though. When the bullet enters the balloon, it drags air in its wake, creating an air-filled cavity in the balloon. The cavity seals near the entry point and quickly breaks up into smaller bubbles. Meanwhile, a unstablejet of water streams out of the balloon through the bullet hole, driven by hydrodynamic pressure and the constriction of the balloon. (Video credit: Keyence)
On a recent trip to G.E., the Slow Mo Guys used their high-speed camera to capture some great footage of dyed water on a superhydrophobic surface. Upon impact, the water streams spread outward, flat except for a crownlike rim around the edges. Then, because air trapped between the liquid and the superhydrophobic solid prevents the liquid from wetting the surface, surface tension pulls the water back together. If this were a droplet rather than a stream, it would rebound off the surface at this point. Instead, the jet breaks up into droplets that scatter and skitter across the surface. There’s footage of smaller droplets bouncing and rebounding, too. Superhydrophobic surfaces aren’t the only way to generate this behavior, though; the same rebounding is found for very hot substrates due to the Leidenfrost effect and very cold substrates due to sublimation. As a bonus, the video includes ferrofluids at high-speed, too. (Video credit: The Slow Mo Guys/G.E.)
An aurora, as seen from the International Space Station, glows in green and red waves over the polar regions of Earth. These lights are the result of interactions between the solar wind–a stream of hot, rarefied plasma from the sun–and our planet’s magnetic field. A bow shock forms where they meet, about 12,000-15,000 km from Earth. The planet’s magnetic field deflects much of the solar wind, but some plasma gets drawn in along field lines near the poles. When these energetic particles interact with nitrogen and oxygen atoms in the upper atmosphere, it can excite the atoms and generate photon emissions, creating the distinctive glow. Similar auroras have been observed on several other planets and moons in our solar system. (Photo credit: NASA)
Today’s post is largely brought to you by the fact that I have been sick the past four days and my fiance and I have been bingeing on Star Trek Voyager. At some point, we began wondering about the sequence from 0:30-0:49 in which Voyager flies through a nebula and leaves a wake of von Karman vortices. Would a starship really leave that kind of wake in a nebula?
My first question was whether the nebula could be treated as a continuous fluid instead of a collection of particles. This is part of the continuum assumption that allows physicists to treat fluid properties like density, temperature, and velocity as well-defined quantities at all points. The continuum assumption is acceptable in flows where the Knudsen number is small. The Knudsen number is the ratio of the mean free path length to a characteristic flow length, in this case, Voyager’s size. The mean free path length is the average distance a particle travels before colliding with another particle. Nebulae are much less dense than our atmosphere, so the mean free path length is larger (~ 2 cm by my calculation) but still much smaller than Voyager’s length of 344 m. So it is reasonable to treat the nebula as a fluid.
As long as the nebula is acting like a fluid, it’s not unreasonable to see alternating vortices shed from Voyager. But are the vortices we see realistic relative to Voyager’s size and speed? Physicists use the dimensionless Strouhal number to describe oscillatory flows and vortex shedding. It’s a ratio of the vortex shedding frequency times the characteristic length to the flow’s velocity. We already know Voyager’s size, so we just need an estimate of its velocity and the number of vortices shed per second. I visually estimated these as 500 m/s and 2.5 vortices/second, respectively. That gives a Strouhal number of 0.28, very close to the value of 0.2 typically measured in the wake of a cylinder, the classical case for a von Karman vortex street.
So far Voyager’s wake is looking quite reasonable indeed. But what about its speed relative to the nebula’s speed of sound? If Voyager is moving faster than the local speed of sound, we might still see vortex shedding in the wake, but there would also be a bow shock off the ship’s leading edge. To answer this question, we need to know Voyager’s Mach number, its speed relative to the local speed of sound. After some digging through papers on nebulae, I found an equation to estimate speed of sound in a nebula (Eq 9 of Jin and Sui 2010) using the specific gas constant and temperature. Because nebulae are primarily composed of hydrogen, I approximated the nebula’s gas constant with hydrogen’s value and chose a representative temperature of 500 K (also based on Jin and Sui 2010). This gave a local speed of sound of 940 m/s, and set Voyager’s Mach number at 0.53, inside the subsonic range and well away from any shock wave formation.
Of course, these are all rough estimates and back-of-the-envelope fluid dynamics calculations, but my end conclusion is that Voyager’s vortex shedding wake through the nebula is realistic after all! (Video credit: Paramount; topic also requested by heuste11)
Evaporating droplets may not look like much to the naked eye, but they contain complicatedflow patterns. The type of pattern observed depends strongly on the contact line, the place where the liquid, solid, and air meet. When the contact line is pinned–kept unchanged–during evaporation, any particulates in the drop get pulled toward the edges as the drop evaporates. This is what leaves the classic coffee ring stain. It is also what is shown in the first clip in the video above. Contrast this with the second clip, in which the contact line is unpinned and varies irregularly as the drop evaporates. In the unpinned drop, particles are drawn inward during evaporation. The flow patterns are very different as well, complicated by swirling that is the result of force imbalances caused by the irregularly receding contact line. (Video credit: H. Kim)
Snowy holidays and long, dark nights are a great time to sit by the fire or enjoy some candlelight. We’ve talked before about how buoyancy affects a flame’s shape, how atomizationmixes liquid fuel and oxidizers, how flames propagate, how internal combustion works and how instabilities can end combustion. But in all that we haven’t addressed what fire actually is! Combustion is a chemical process–a reaction between a hydrocarbon fuel and oxygen, but the flame we’re accustomed to seeing is a combination of blue light produced by the complete reaction and incandescent red/orange/yellow light from glowing soot particles produced when there is insufficient oxygen for the reaction. If you have time after the Minute Physics version, this video from Ben Ames has a wonderful explanation of flames. Of course, if you just prefer your holiday fun with more explosive high-speed videos, you’re going to want to see this Christmas tree made from detonation cord (see 2:40 for the start of the best part). This wraps up our holiday-themed fluid dynamics series. Happy holidays from FYFD! (Video credit: Minute Physics)
If you make a proper cup of hot chocolate this holiday, watch carefully and you just may catch some Rayleigh-Benard convection like the video above. (Note, video playback is 3x.) The canonical Rayleigh-Benard problem is one in which fluid is heated from below and cooled from above. For the cup of hot chocolate, the cooling comes from the colder, ambient air at the cocoa’s surface. Because cooler fluid is denser than warmer fluid, the cocoa near the surface will tend to sink down, allowing warmer cocoa to rise. As that warm cocoa reaches the surface, it too will cool and sink back down, continuing the cycle. The effect relies on buoyancy and, by extension, gravity; on the International Space Station, for example, astronauts would not observe such convection. The distinctive shape of the cells depends on the boundaries of the cup. This post is part of our weeklong holiday-themed fluid dynamics series. (Video credit: Armuotas)
I broke out some of my family’s Christmas decorations for today’s video. Enjoy and be sure to come back tomorrow when our week of holiday-themed fluid dynamics continues! (Video credit: N. Sharp)
