Striped clouds appear to converge over a mountaintop in this photo, but that’s an illusion. In reality, these clouds are parallel and periodic; it’s only the camera’s wide-angle lens that makes them appear to converge.
Wave clouds like these form when air gets pushed up and over topography, triggering an up-and-down oscillation (known as an internal wave) in the atmosphere. At the peak of the wave, cool moist air condenses water vapor into droplets that form clouds. As the air bobs back down and warms, the clouds evaporate, leaving behind a series of stripes. You can learn more about the physics behind these clouds here and here. (Image credit: Y. Beletsky; via APOD)
In 1181 CE, astronomers in China and Japan recorded a new, short-lived star in the constellation Cassiopeia. After burning for nearly six months, this historic supernova disappeared from the naked eye. It was only in 2013 that an amateur astronomer identified a nebula in the vicinity of that supernova, and, in the years since, astronomers have collected evidence that identifies the object, known as Pa 30, as the remnants of that 1181 supernova. Now, astronomers have mapped the supernova remnant, revealing an unusual dandelion-like structure (shown in an artist’s conception above and below). Filaments of sulfur project outward from a dusty central region that houses the remains of the original star. Normally, a supernova destroys its original star, but this was a Type Iax supernova, a “failed” explosion that left behind a hot, inflated star that may eventually cool into a white dwarf star.
Why the supernova remnant has this strange shape remains unclear. Scientists speculate that shock waves may have helped concentrate sulfur into these clumpy filaments. The material’s velocity suggests a ballistic trajectory (meaning, essentially, that it has neither sped up nor slowed down since the original explosion). Winding the trajectory backwards pegs their origin to 1181, helping confirm that Pa 30 is, indeed, the remains of that 1181 supernova. (Image and video credit: W.M. Keck Observatory/A. Makarenko; research credit: R. Fesen et al.; via Gizmodo)
As glaciers flow, they grind down rock, creating fine sediment that dyes waterways a milky color. In Jan Erik Waider’s aerial film, we get a bird’s eye view of the result, watching pockets of sediment move downstream in pulsating waves and swirls. Along the coast, ocean waves pass over the internal ones, creating a mesmerizing crisscrossed wavescape. You can also compare Waider’s aerial footage to Roman De Giuli’s tabletop-scale films and be amazed by their similarities. (Image and video credit: J. Waider; via Colossal)
Many models for forecasting ocean waves simplify the physics by assuming that waves are essentially two-dimensional, like a long breaker heading toward shore. But in the open ocean, waves often come from more than one direction; crossing seas are a good example. When waves from different directions combine, a recent study shows, the resulting wave can grow far larger and steeper than expected. These monstrous rogue waves are especially dangerous for offshore infrastructure like oil rigs and wind turbines, which must be built to withstand rare but extreme waves. (Image credit: O. Мороз; research credit: M. McAllister et al.; via Gizmodo)
The surface features of Mars — crossed by river deltas and sedimentary deposits — indicate a watery past. Where that water went after the planet lost its atmosphere 3 – 4 billion years ago is an open question. But a new study suggests that quite a bit of that water moved underground rather than escaping to space.
The research team analyzed seismic data from the Mars InSight Lander. Marsquakes and meteor strikes on the Red Planet send seismic waves through the planet’s interior. The waves’ speed and other characteristics change as they pass through different materials, and by comparing different waves picked up from the same originating source, scientists can back out what the waves passed through on the way to the detector. In this case, the team concluded that the data best fit a layer of water-filled fractured igneous rock 11.5 – 20 kilometers below the surface. They estimate that the water trapped in this subsurface layer is enough to cover the surface of the planet in a 1 – 2 kilometer deep ocean. (Image credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech; research credit: V. Wright et al.; via Physics World)
A surfer duck-dives beneath a passing wave in this image from photographer John Barton. I always love seeing big waves from this underwater perspective. The turbulent surf looks like storm clouds, and sometimes you see features that are invisible from the surface. Barton’s shot captures the dichotomy of serenity and chaos in the breaking surf. (Image credit: J. Barton/OPOTY; via Colossal)
In the Olympics, you won’t see anyone win a rowing event without a paddle, but it turns out that you don’t really need one for a canoe or paddleboard. How can you get around when you’ve lost your paddle? You stand up on one end and start bobbing. This is known as gunwale (pronounced gunnel) bobbing, and it’s pretty impressively effective! With optimal parameters, scientists found that a canoe could move about 1 m/s with the technique.
As the bobber pushes, it generates an asymmetric wave field on the water surface. The canoe or paddleboard then essentially surfs those waves, turning the vertical displacement into a horizontal thrust. The researchers expect that the effect matters for competitive rowing, too, where the athletes’ rowing motions cause some vertical displacement. Clearly, the biggest effect comes from the oars themselves, but optimal bobbing could provide enough of an edge to ensure the gold. (Image credit: top – R. Chisu; others – G. Benham et al.; research credit: G. Benham et al.; via APS Physics; submitted by Kam-Yung Soh)
Unlike the swimming competition, Olympic triathletes complete their swim legs in open waters. There are no lane dividers and no rules against drafting off a fellow athlete. Curious to see how draft positioning could affect swimmers, researchers experimented with swimmer-shaped models in a water channel and a numerical simulation. They found that the most advantageous position is directly behind a lead swimmer, where the follower could enjoy a 40% reduction in drag. Another good position is near the leader’s hip, where waves off the leader provide a 30% reduction in drag.
The worst place to swim, interestingly, is immediately side-by-side. With both swimmers neck-in-neck, drag is maximized, and each swimmer feels more drag than they would swimming by themselves! (Image credit: J. Romero; research credit: B. Bolan et al.)
Spiking natural gas power plants with hydrogen could help them burn cleaner as we transition away from carbon power. But burners in power plants and jet engines can be extremely finicky, thanks to thermoacoustic instabilities. As a flame burns, it can sputter and fluctuate in its heat output. That creates pressure oscillations (which we sometimes hear as sound waves) that reflect off the burner’s walls and return toward the flame, causing further fluctuations. This feedback loop can be destructive enough to explode combustion chambers.
Adding hydrogen to a burner designed purely for natural gas can trigger these instabilities (above image), but researchers hope that by exploring fuel-mixtures and their effect at lab-scale, they can help designers find safe ways to adapt industrial burners for the cleaner fuel mixture. (Image and research credit: B. Ahn et al.; via APS Physics)
Scientists have long suspected that KHI could occur in solar phenomena, too, like the coronal mass ejections that drive space weather. The Parker Solar Probe, a spacecraft designed to explore the sun, caught evidence of a series of turbulent eddies during a 2021 coronal mass ejection, and a recent study of those observations shows that the series of vortices are consistent with KHI. Put simply, the team found that the features are spaced and aligned as we’d expect for KHI and, during the probe’s measurements, the features grew at the rate Kelvin-Helmholtz eddies would. Although the instability itself may be common in the sun’s corona, it’s unlikely that we’ll see it often, simply because conditions need to be just right for them to be visible. (Image credit: NASA/Johns Hopkins APL/NRL/Guillermo Stenborg and Evangelos Paouris; research credit: E. Paouris et al.; via Gizmodo)
