Gram for gram, few animals can match the power of a pistol shrimp’s snap. When its claw closes, the shrimp ejects a jet of water so fast that the water pressure drops below the vapor pressure, causing a cavitation bubble. Like other cavitation bubbles, this one is short-lived, growing and collapsing (and sending out shock waves!) in less than a millisecond. That’s enough to knock any predator or prey for a loop. (Image and video credit: Ant Lab)
Some resonators aren’t perfect — nor are they meant to be! Here, researchers experiment with resonance using a disk shaking up and down over a pool of water. The disk never touches the water, but its movement makes the air above the water move in and out, like a miniature, changeable wind. The air flow distorts the water surface, creating waves just tens of microns high. Beneath the disk, the water forms standing waves, indicating resonance.
But the waves don’t stay under the disk. Beyond its edge, we see traveling waves moving outward, carrying some of the disk’s energy with them. This leakage is actually how many musical instruments, like a guitar, work. When the guitar strings are plucked, their vibrations are transmitted into the body of the guitar through its bridge, where the strings are anchored. The body acts as a resonator, amplifying the sound, some of which leaks out the sound hole. (Image and video credit: U. Jain et al.)
On 31 July 2022, an unusual tidal phenomenon, a fish-scale tide, took place on the Qiantang River’s estuary in Zhejiang Province, China. Here are a couple videos. I’ve not found any explanations for it thus far, so I’m assembling my own. The Qiantang River and its estuary, Hangzhou Bay, are home to the world’s largest tidal bores, reaching 9 meters in places. That means the area regularly sees trains of large waves moving upstream against the normal current.
The area is also known to have rotating currents, meaning that the tide does not simply move inland and then smoothly reverse direction. Instead, a rotating current can change its direction of flow over the course of a tidal cycle without changing its speed. Taken together, this makes the Qiantang River region perfect for winding up with groups of waves colliding at oblique angles, similar to a cross sea. I believe that’s what’s going on here with the fish-scale tide. Two sets of tidal-bore-induced waves are colliding at an angle, creating some gnarly conditions and a very cool pattern. (Image credit: VCG; submitted by Antony B.)
Brown reefs edge a turquoise lagoon in this astronaut snapshot of the New Caledonian coastline. Reefs like these form a natural barrier that protects coastlines from storms by breaking up waves (seen here as those white edges) before they reach the shore. The lagoon is streaked with lines of tan where sediment flows from the uplands into the water. Similarly, the color variations from green to blue in water hint at changes in depth, organic content, and more. (Image credit: NASA; via NASA Earth Observatory)
As a teenager, I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. The final ascent began around midnight, and we climbed through the dark, through sunrise, and into the early morning. I remember pausing at one point, just as the sun was rising, and looking out at the clouds thousands of meters below. From that height, they looked like an ocean, rippled with lavender waves. Timelapse films like this one, by filmmaker Martin Heck, remind me of that morning and the sense that I had of the sky as an ocean, flowing, crashing, and surging in ways we cannot appreciate until we slow down and look closer. (Image and video credit: M. Heck/Timestorm Films)
In the days of the Concorde — thus far the world’s only supersonic passenger jet — noise complaints from residents kept the aircraft from faster-than-sound travel except over the open ocean. With many pursuing a new generation of civil supersonic aircraft, researchers are looking at how those sonic booms could interact with those of us on the ground.
In this study, researchers simulated the shock waves from aircraft interacting with single and multiple buildings on the ground. They found that the presence of a building increases the perceived sound level of the boom by about 7 dB at the most. But the most interesting results are what happens between multiple buildings.
If the street between buildings is wide enough, they each act independently, as if they were single buildings. But for narrower streets, the acoustics waves reflect and diffract between the buildings, creating a resonance that makes the acoustic echoes last longer. The effect is especially pronounced for a sonic boom traveling across a series of buildings, which mimics the layout of a dense city full of urban canyons. (Image credit: Concorde – M. Rochette, simulation – D. Dragna et al.; research credit: D. Dragna et al.)
In “Water III,” filmmaker Morgan Maassen explores the ocean from above and below. I love the sheer variety of fluid phenomena; yes, there are classic breaking barrel waves for surfing, but there are also rib vortices and bubble plumes and churning turbulence that wouldn’t be out of place in a stormy Midwestern sky. Enjoy! (Image and video credit: M. Maassen)
Rip currents — also known as rips — are a threat to beachgoers around the world, and, unfortunately, they’re often underestimated or misunderstood. As waves crash on the shore, water must find a path back out to sea, often through deeper channels that provide a break between the waves. These flow paths are rip currents, and they can form, shift, and intensify with little warning.
Over the years, researchers have found that efforts to educate beachgoers through signs, flags, and other methods once at the beach have done little to help visitors understand, avoid, or escape rips. Instead, it’s better to educate people long before the water is in sight. Since no one method is guaranteed success for escaping a rip, it’s better to learn to recognize and avoid these dangerous areas. Check out the video below for advice on spotting rips, and here’s a video showing rips from a surfer’s perspective, as well as one using dye flow visualization to mark a rip. Be safe and smart out there! (Image credit: P. Auitpol; video credit: Surf Life Saving Australia; via Hakai Magazine; submitted by Kam-Yung Soh)
In 2017, the World Meteorological Organization named a new cloud type: the wave-like asperitas cloud. How these rare and distinctive clouds form is still a matter of debate, but this new study suggests that they need conditions similar to those that produce mammatus clouds, plus some added shear.
Using direct numerical simulations, the authors studied a moisture-filled cloud layer sitting above drier ambient air. Without shear, large droplets in this cloud layer slowly settle downward. As the droplets evaporate, they cool the area just below the cloud, changing the density and creating a Rayleigh-Taylor-like instability. This is one proposed mechanism for mammatus clouds, which have bulbous shapes that sink down from the cloud.
When they added shear to the simulation, the authors found that instead of mammatus clouds, they observed asperitas ones. But the amount of shear had to be just right. Too little shear produced mammatus clouds; too much and the shear smeared out the sinking lobes before they could form asperitas waves. (Image credit: A. Beatson; research credit: S. Ravichandran and R. Govindarajan)
Surfers flock to northern Peru to enjoy what’s been called the world’s longest wave. These waves are generated by storms thousands of miles away in the Pacific and Southern Oceans. In the open water between, the waves sort themselves into groups of similar wavelength and speed. With the deep water off Peru, the large swells continue to travel together until close to the shore. Surfers also benefit from the tendency for incoming waves to arrive nearly parallel to the coastline, creating long shoreline stretches for breaking. Where many famous wave breaks can be ridden for seconds, surfers can ride these for minutes! (Image credit: L. Dauphin; via NASA Earth Observatory)