FYFD

Tag: fluid dynamics

  • Inside the Canopy

    Inside the Canopy

    If you’ve ever gone into the woods on a windy day, you know that conditions there are drastically different than in the open. To blowing wind, trees of different sizes act like enormous roughness that disturbs the flow. Inside the canopy, flows can become incredibly complicated and many of the common techniques used by researchers no longer hold. 

    You can get a sense for this complexity with the second image above, which visualizes data from a wind tunnel experiment. The gray blocks represent roughness elements – the trees of this wind-tunnel-scale forest – and the large, blue arrow shows the direction of the flow. The thin colored lines show the paths taken by particles in the flow. The lines’ colors indicate what height the trajectory began at. 

    Notice how the blue and purple lines are relatively straight and oriented in the direction of the flow. This indicates that the flow here is relatively steady and uncomplicated. At the lower heights, though, especially in the green and yellow regions, the pathlines are far more twisted and complex. The flow here is turbulent, and the particles’ trajectories don’t necessarily correlate at all to the winds higher up. (Image credit: T. Japyassu and R. Shnapp et al.; research credit: R. Shnapp et al.; submitted  by Ron S.)

  • Asymmetric Wakes

    Asymmetric Wakes

    When a ship moves through water, it leaves a distinctive V-shaped wake behind it. In the nineteenth century, Lord Kelvin made some of the earliest theoretical studies of this phenomenon, calculating that the arms of the V should have an angle of about 39 degrees, known as the Kelvin angle. But that theoretical result doesn’t always hold in practice.

    More recently, researchers calculated and experimentally verified an extension to Kelvin’s theory, one which accounts for what’s going on below the water. They found that any shear in the currents below the surface can strongly affect the shape of a boat’s wake, altering angles and creating asymmetry between the two sides. The results have practical consequences, too: they help predict the wave resistance ships will encounter when traversing areas with substantial subsurface shear, like near the mouths of river deltas. (Image credit: M. Adams; research credit: B. Smeltzer et al.; submitted by clogwog)

  • Featured Video Play Icon

    “Unity”

    Rus Khasanov’s latest short film, “Unity,” is all about coming together with droplets coalescing, globules bursting, and colors mixing. Take a glittery, paint-filled break and enjoy some macro-filmed fluid dynamics in action. (Video and image credit: R. Khasanov)

  • Reader Question: White Caps

    Reader Question: White Caps

    Reader eclecticca asks:

    I really like the last two posts about waves, and they left me with another question…  My dad had a little boat he used to take us ocean fishing on quite a bit.  I always noticed that some days we just had big waves (swells) when out from the coastline and in fairly deep water (a hundred feet to hundreds of feet according to the depth sounder) and other days those swells would “break” and curl and foam and crash in on themselves, being what we called “breakers” or “white caps”.  There is no shore to create the breakers in this case, so what is happening?  Is it due to wind? current  a combination of factors?    Always been kind of curious about this really…

    You’re exactly right: those open ocean white caps are due to wind. Strictly speaking, the wind is what’s causing all* of the waves out in open, deep waters. But once the wind is strong enough, it starts breaking up the crests of waves, creating those foamy white tops. 

    According to one study, the break-up happens when the wind transfers more energy to the wave than surface tension can withstand. When the wave crest breaks up into a mixture of air, spray, and foam, it effectively gives the wind more surface area to push against and continue transferring energy. (Image credit: M. Moers)

    * With a few notable exceptions, like in the case of a tsunami.

  • Ferrofluid in a Cell

    Ferrofluid in a Cell

    Ferrofluids are a colloid consisting of magnetically sensitive nanoparticles suspended in a carrier liquid, like oil. They’re often associated with a distinctive spiky appearance when exposed to a magnet, but this isn’t their only magnetic response. Above we see a ferrofluid confined to a Hele-Shaw cell – essentially two glass plates with a small gap between them. In the upper image, the ferrofluid is exposed first to an axial magnetic field, which stretches it to form spidery arms. Then the magnetic field switches to a rotating configuration, which curls the arms around and causes the ferrofluid to slowly rotate.

    In the lower image, you see the reverse. First, the ferrofluid feels a rotating magnetic field. When this is changed to an axial field, the ferrofluid bursts into a cell-like center with straight arms. As the magnitude of the axial field increases further, the arms begin to curl. For more fantastical ferrofluid formations, check out these previous posts featuring artists Linden Gledhill and Fabian Oefner. (Image credit: M. Zahn and C. Lorenz, source; via Ashlyn N.)

  • Reader Question: Waves Breaking

    Reader Question: Waves Breaking

    As a follow-up to the recent waves post, reader robotslenderman asks:

    What does it look like when the wave breaks? And why do waves sometimes push us back? Why are we able to ride them?

    I wasn’t able to find an equivalent breaking wave version of that dyed wave – side note: readers with flumes, please feel free to make one and share it! – but here’s an undyed breaking wave for our reference.

    Waves break, or get that white, frothy look, when they reach shallower water. In the previous post, the waves we saw were effectively deep-water waves, so they didn’t change in height as they rolled across the tank. Here there’s an incline to simulate a beach, which causes the water to slow down and steepen. That forms the characteristic curl of a plunging breaker, seen here.

    At the beach, a wave runs out of water to pass through and all the energy that wave was carrying has to go somewhere. Some is lost as heat, some turns into the sound of that classic crashing wave, and a lot of it gets dissipated as turbulence that pushes us, sand, shells, and anything else its way.

    As for why we can ride waves, there’s some special physics at play when it comes to surfing. To catch a wave, a surfer has to paddle hard to get up to the wave’s speed just as it reaches them. Too slow and the wave will just pass them by, leaving them bobbing more or less in place. (Image credit: T. Shand, source)

  • Cavitation Collapse

    Cavitation Collapse

    The collapse of a bubble underwater doesn’t seem like a very important matter, but when it happens near a solid surface, like part of a ship, it can be incredibly destructive. This video, featuring numerical simulations of the bubble’s collapse, shows why. 

    When near a surface, the bubble’s collapse is asymmetric, and this asymmetry creates a powerful jet that pushes through the bubble and impacts the opposite side. That impact generates a shock wave that travels out toward the wall. As the bubble hits its minimum volume, a second shock front is generated. Both shock waves travel toward the wall and reflect off it, generating high pressure all along the surface. (Image and video credit: S. Beig and E. Johnson)

  • How Waves Travel

    How Waves Travel

    When playing in the surf, it’s easy to imagine that the incoming waves are a wall of water crashing into the shore. And, in a way they are, but probably less so than you imagine. Waves travel through a medium, whether it’s solid or fluid, but for the most part, they’re not translating the medium itself. You can see that in the animation above by watching the dye beneath the surface. The passing waves don’t cause much mixing in the dye, and though their passage distorts the underlying water, we see that everything returns more or less to its starting position once the wave has passed. (Image credit: S. Morris, source)

  • Featured Video Play Icon

    “Vorticity 2”

    There’s no better way to appreciate our atmosphere than through timelapse, and photographer Mike Olbinski is a master at capturing the beauty and power of nature at work through this medium. In “Vorticity 2″, he highlights two full seasons of storm chasing in an incredible seven-and-a-half minutes. Prepare yourself for dramatic cloudscapes, torrential rains, and even twin tornadoes. This one deserves a watch on the biggest screen you have available. (Image and video credit: M. Olbinski; via Colossal)

  • Breaking Up

    Breaking Up

    The dripping of a faucet and the break-up of a jet into droplets is universal. That means that the forces – the inertia of the fluid, the capillary forces governed by surface tension, and the viscous dissipation – balance in such a way that the initial conditions of the jet – its size, speed, etc. – don’t matter to the process of break-up. 

    We’d expect that the inverse situation – the breakup of a gas into bubbles in a liquid – would be similarly universal, but it’s not. When unconfined bubbles pinch off, the way they do so is heavily influenced by initial conditions. But that changes, according to a new study, if you confine the gas to a liquid-filled tube before pinch-off. Confinement forces a different balance between viscous and capillary effects, one which effectively erases the initial conditions of the flow and restores universality to the pinch-off process. (Image and research credit: A. Pahlavan et al.; via phys.org)