Flows and fields
Streamlines are not the paths particles take
Three different curves get drawn through a flow and they are routinely treated as one. In steady flow they coincide, which is why the confusion survives; in unsteady flow they are as different as a photograph and a long exposure.
Mass has nowhere to go
Squeeze a stream of fluid and it speeds up, not because anything pushes it but because the same amount has to get through a smaller gap every second. Almost every result in the subject is that observation with more machinery attached.
What a flow is
A fluid is made of molecules and nobody models it that way. Treating it as a continuous field with a velocity at every point is an approximation, an extremely good one, and knowing why it works is knowing where it stops.
Steady does not mean nothing is happening
Photograph the flow past a cylinder twice and the two pictures are identical. Every parcel of air in them is being thrown about — braked to a dead stop, hauled round the shoulder at nearly twice the free-stream speed, braked again. Both statements are exactly true.
Spin is not the same as going round
A whirlpool whose streamlines are perfect circles can have no rotation in it anywhere. A flow whose streamlines are dead straight and parallel can be rotating everywhere. Both statements are true, and getting them the wrong way round is the most expensive confusion in the subject.
The number on a streamline is a flow rate
Streamlines get drawn as decoration — curves the flow follows, spaced however the plotting looked best. Each one carries a number, the difference between two of those numbers is the volume of fluid passing between them every second, and it does not matter what route the measurement takes.
Circulation is vorticity, added up
One of these two quantities is measured by walking round a loop and one by summing over the area inside it, and a theorem says they are the same number. That reconciles the site's most confusable pair — and explains how a flow with circulation can have no spin in it anywhere.
What a parcel does in the first instant
Drop a circle of dye into a flow and it becomes an ellipse. The velocity gradient that did it splits into a stretch and a spin in exactly one way, the split is not a convention, and one half of it is the reason a fluid has any stress in it at all.
The spin that feeds itself
Stretch a vortex tube and its spin rises in exact proportion, because the circulation round it cannot change and its area has fallen. Nothing in that argument sets a limit — and the one flow where the limit can be written down exactly puts it at a length of √(4ν/α).
No randomness, and it mixes anyway
A steady two-dimensional flow cannot mix, however fast it is stirred, because its trajectories are its streamlines. Switch two vortices on and off alternately and the same fluid, obeying an exact map with nothing random in it, folds a patch of dye through itself until neighbouring particles separate by a factor of a thousand in six periods.
The count a pattern cannot break
A picture of a flow has stagnation points in it, and they are not free to be arranged as anybody likes. Their kinds and their number obey an integer constraint that has nothing to do with the equations of motion — and an incompressible flow in a plane is allowed only two kinds of them in the first place.
How many things a flow must be told
The equations of motion do not have one answer. They have as many as the conditions on the edge allow, and the number of those is decided by the order of the equation — which is why viscosity does not make the same problem harder, it makes a different problem.
Where vorticity comes from
Every scrap of vorticity in a flow past a body entered through its surface, and the rate at which it enters contains no viscosity at all — it is the pressure gradient along the wall. A flat plate makes none, and a closed body makes exactly as much of each sign.
The mean is not the flow
Average an unsteady flow and the result is a new object with its own properties, and it is not a solution of anything. An inviscid stream oscillating about zero has a mean velocity of exactly nothing everywhere, a mean pressure that reaches minus two dynamic pressures at the shoulders, and a missing term in its own momentum equation that can be written down in closed form.
The drift in a wave that has none
The velocity at any fixed point under a passing wave averages to exactly zero, and every parcel of water in it moves steadily forward anyway. The orbits do not close, they miss by the same amount every time, and the missing amount is the square of the steepness times the wave speed.
A wall that is not quite there
A porous surface has structure on every scale below the pore, and no calculation resolves it. The whole of it can be replaced by one length — the square root of the permeability — and the replacement is exact to first order, with what it leaves out identifiable as the flow the wall itself carries.
The picture belongs to whoever is watching
Photograph the flow past a cylinder from the tunnel and it has two stagnation points. Photograph the same flow from a frame moving with the air and it has none at all, and its surface speed is exactly the free stream at every angle. Both pictures are correct and no measurement distinguishes them.
Every flow is two flows
Any velocity field splits into a part carrying all of the divergence and a part carrying all of the vorticity. The theorem says so and does not say which split — the two halves can be moved between each other by anything harmonic, and on a bounded region that is an infinite family.
A rate of change that will not hold still
Three boxes drawn in one flow at one instant give three different answers to how fast the dye inside them is changing — one falling, one falling twice as fast, one rising. All three reconcile with a single material rate, and that rate is zero.
Longer, with nothing pulling it
Two flows with exactly the same rate of strain. In one a line of fluid grows by a factor of 148 in five time units; in the other it grows by 10. Turn the straining axes faster than the strain rate and no line grows at all, however hard the fluid is being strained.
Where a vortex stops
Four criteria decide where a vortex ends, and in two dimensions three of them are the same criterion. The fourth is a knob. And the one that is not a knob is not objective: a co-rotating pair of vortices occupies four per cent of a window to one observer and more than half of it to another.
Incompressible is not a property of the fluid
A flow whose density varies three to one across it, with a divergence of 10⁻¹⁰ everywhere. And a flow of air at Mach 0.1, whose divergence is three per cent of U/a and which every textbook calls incompressible. The word is about what the flow does to a parcel's volume, and about nothing else.
The one number that runs out at three dimensions
A stream function is one function where the velocity is two, and four essays here are built on it. It exists because the divergence vanishes, it is single-valued only if nothing inside is making fluid, and in three dimensions it is not one function at all.
A wave nothing in it travels with
A flood crest moves at five-thirds the speed of the water it is made of, at every depth, whatever the roughness and whatever the slope. A traffic wave moves backwards through cars that are all going forwards. Neither result contains a momentum equation.
Steady, three-dimensional, and mixing anyway
A steady flow that solves the Euler equations exactly, with its vorticity equal to its velocity to six parts in ten thousand million — and one of its streamlines wanders through a sixth of the box while another, started nearby, lies on a curve for ever.
The knot a flow cannot untie
Ideal flow conserves energy, circulation and impulse, and all three are what they look like. It conserves a fourth quantity that is not: a volume integral of the velocity dotted into the vorticity, whose value counts how many times the vortex lines are linked through one another.
The stretching rate that is not one number
A material line in a flow gets longer, and there is a theorem saying its length grows at a definite exponential rate. There is also a rate at which the average length grows, and it is nearly twice as large — and a different rate for every moment of the distribution.
The area that must not move
A patch of dye in an incompressible two-dimensional flow keeps exactly the area it started with, for ever. Two respectable integrators are put on the same flow: one respects that identically at any step size, the other does not, and the pictures they draw are the same picture.
The drift a closed box will not allow
A wave in a wave tank carries mass forward, and the tank has nowhere to put it. So a return current appears carrying exactly the opposite transport — exactly, from mass conservation and nothing else. Which fixes a total and leaves the answer anybody wants entirely open.
The mesh that makes its own mass
The transport theorem holds for a region moving at any velocity, which is what makes a moving-mesh calculation possible. Discretised carelessly it is not an identity but an approximation, and a fluid at rest with a uniform density then gains density from the motion of a grid — smoothly, plausibly, and looking exactly like a physical transient.
Two averages of one flow
In a flow whose density varies there are two mean velocities, they are both correct, and across a flame they differ by a factor of two. One of them is what a hot wire returns; the other is what every compressible turbulence model is written in; and the mass flux is the single product they agree on.
Two strainings, and the order they came in
A material line is stretched by a shear and then by a pure strain, and then by the same two in the other order. Every instantaneous measure of how hard the fluid was being worked is identical in the two cases. The lengths at the end differ by a factor of 2.16.
A scalar is a record of where its fluid was
A conserved scalar has no value of its own. Its value at a point is whatever it was at the place that point's fluid started from, which makes a dye field a photograph of the past — and makes the map from now to then the only thing in the flow that carries the past at all.
A drift made of two things that average to zero
Stokes drift is usually explained as a parcel spending longer in the forward half of its orbit. That is true and it is not a formula. The formula is a correlation between a displacement and a gradient, each of which averages to exactly nothing, and it splits into two halves that are equal to twelve figures.
A boundary that only exists over a window
The curve that separates fluid going one way from fluid going another is not in any snapshot of the flow. It is the crest of a field built from a stretch of history, it moves when the stretch is changed, and reversing the direction of time gives a different curve entirely — both of them real.
What a mean profile cannot tell anybody
Two flows are built here with mean velocity profiles that agree to four parts in 10¹⁷. One of them carries momentum across the shear and dissipates forty per cent more energy; the other carries nothing. Everything that distinguishes them is second order in a disturbance the mean cannot see at all.
How long the fluid has been in there
Age is the simplest thing a flow can remember. It obeys the shortest transport equation in the subject — its material derivative is one — and no instrument pointed at a steady flow can read it, because a steady flow's every field is constant and its fluid is getting older all the time.
The count computed on a body
The rule for a closed surface is usually quoted and seldom solved for. This solves for one, and what the computation adds is not confirmation — it is the discovery that the count survives two events in which the number of stagnation points falls, and that both of them have closed forms.
Two kinds is a plane flow's privilege
A plane incompressible flow has a saddle or a centre and nothing else, and the proof is one line about a trace. The same line in three dimensions constrains three numbers instead of two, which is far less, and what it leaves is four kinds of point separated by a curve — with the one a plane cannot have being the structure the whole of turbulence is made from.
The line the dye actually draws
The streakline is the curve most photographs really show, and of the three curves it is the hardest to compute, because it needs the whole history of the flow. This draws it, in a flow where all four curves have closed forms, and the third curve turns out to be a different kind of object from the other two rather than a third example of the same one.
The curve that measures a gradient
Three of the four curves drawn through a flow answer the same question — where did the fluid go. The fourth answers a different one. A line of particles released together is displaced by the local velocity and by nothing else, so its shape is the velocity profile, and dividing the elapsed time back out returns that profile exactly rather than approximately.
The vorticity a clean surface cannot refuse
A clean bubble's surface cannot hold a shear stress, and it is easy to conclude that it makes no vorticity. On a curved surface it must carry exactly 2κu — three times the speed over the radius at a sphere's equator, whatever the Reynolds number. That is so much weaker than a rigid wall's that the flow stays irrotational to leading order, and the bubble's drag is the dissipation of that irrotational flow: 48/Re, three to ten times below a rigid sphere's.
Twice as slippery along as across
A surface of alternating gas and solid stripes lets a liquid slip, and a flow far above it sees one number in place of the pattern — but the number depends on which way the flow goes. Along the stripes it is Philip's logarithm; across them it is exactly half, for a reason that takes one substitution to show. And the logarithm means that the slip is bought by the pattern's period rather than by how much of it is gas.
A wall puts in exactly its own speed
A wall sliding in its own plane makes vorticity at a rate equal to its acceleration, with no viscosity in the rate. So however a wall is started, the vorticity it has put into the fluid is its speed, to the last digit; a wall that stops takes all of it back and leaves the fluid moving; and a spinning cylinder carries its whole circulation from the first instant, hidden behind an equal and opposite ring until viscosity carries the ring away.
The sign a stagnation point carries in space
In three dimensions a stagnation point's index is the sign of one determinant, and that determinant is minus the R of the invariant diagram — so the diagram's left and right halves are the two indices. An exact Euler flow in a periodic box has eight such points, four of each sign, never a spiral among them, and they can only disappear in pairs that meet on the one line where the sign is allowed to change.
The drift a rotating planet takes back
In a wave tank the Stokes drift is cancelled by a return current because the tank has walls. The open ocean has none, and the drift is cancelled anyway: the Coriolis force acts on the water's real motion, drives an Eulerian current that answers it, and leaves the depth-integrated transport exactly zero at every viscosity. A float under steady swell with nothing to stop it goes round a circle instead of away.
The column the chord rule cannot settle
A suspension settling in a closed column is a kinematic wave, and its flux curve bends both ways. At the top the chord rule works: clear water meets the suspension at a single falling front. At the bottom it does not, and the bed grows behind a shock that stops short of packing and a graded layer beneath it — so the interface, instead of arriving, slows for ever.
A wave on the wall is a pump
A channel whose wall only moves in and out, in a wave travelling along it, delivers a steady net flow with no part of the wall moving along the channel. In the frame of the wave the walls stand still and are streamlines, so continuity alone fixes how the laboratory flow rate follows the wall shape — and the momentum equation is needed only for one number, which also decides whether fluid rides along with the wave or leaks back against it.
The drift that turns a current into rolls
A current carrying a Stokes drift feels a force the drift makes out of the current's own vorticity, and under a wind that force is unstable. It turns the surface layer into rolls lined up downwind, with windrows where they sink. The rolls need both the current's shear and the drift's; their growth rate sees only the product; and the split between the two decides which motion gets the energy.
The floor that gives the drift back
In the open ocean the Coriolis force drives a current that cancels a swell's Stokes transport exactly. Over a continental shelf the sea floor holds a stress, and whatever it holds is transport the rotation does not take back. How much survives depends almost only on the depth in Ekman depths; which way it points depends on the wave.
The pump that is better the more it squeezes
A waving sheet swims at a cost per metre with no amplitude in it. A waving wall pumping fluid is the same mechanism turned round, and its efficiency is nothing like that: it starts at nine-eighths of the amplitude ratio squared, is exactly 2 − √3 at half closure, and rises towards one as the wave closes the tube — where the pump stops being a wave and becomes a piston.
The tangent that sizes a plant
A closed cylinder of settling suspension is a kinematic wave problem with a flux curve. Open the cylinder — feed it at the top and draw thickened slurry from the floor — and the capacity of the whole plant is a straight line laid against that same curve, touching it rather than cutting it.
When the flux outruns the pressure
A kinematic wave is derived by throwing the momentum equation away, and the derivation never says when that is allowed. It is allowed until the kinematic wave, which travels faster than the water, overtakes the downstream dynamic wave as well — at which point uniform flow ceases to exist and a concrete chute carries a train of surges instead of a sheet.
A gradient left to itself
Follow a parcel's velocity gradient with nothing acting on it but its own square and the part of the pressure a single parcel can know about. Every starting gradient but a set of measure zero reaches infinity in a finite time, and it gets there as a sheet with its spin lying in the sheet.
The air flows in against the heat
A gas moving at a ten-thousandth of the speed of sound is as incompressible as anything gets, by the usual arithmetic. Heat one spot of it and let the spot cool: the gas changes its volume threefold, and it flows towards the hot spot while the heat flows out, at a speed fixed by the heat flux alone. At constant pressure, a joule is a volume.
A flat flame is unstable at every size
A flame expands the gas it burns, and the expansion pushes back on the fresh gas ahead. Where the flame bulges forward the fresh gas slows, so the bulge burns further forward; where it lags, the gas speeds up and it falls further back. Every wrinkle grows, the shorter ones faster, and what finally gives a real flame a size is how its burning speed responds to its own curvature.
Every snapshot says vortex, and every particle leaves
There is a flow in which the velocity gradient has complex eigenvalues at every point and every instant — a vortex by every criterion that reads a snapshot, in the frame the flow is measured in — and in which every fluid particle is flung away exponentially. The snapshot is not wrong about the gradient. It is wrong about the fluid, and it is wrong exactly when the strain's axes turn.
A vortex pair carries eddies no snapshot can see
Two equal vortices circling each other are, by every snapshot of the velocity gradient, two small vortices in a straining flow: outside their cores the flow is irrotational, and the gradient there is pure strain. Seen from the frame that turns with them, the same flow contains two large eddies, one on each side, centred where a third point would complete an equilateral triangle with the pair. Their fluid goes round with the pair for ever, and it carries no vorticity at all. They hold seventy times the area of the cores, and the only way to see them is to follow the fluid or to turn with it.
A wrinkled flame has one cusp and a speed limit
The linear theory of a flame says every long wrinkle grows and none is favoured. The weakly nonlinear theory — the Michelson–Sivashinsky equation — says where the growth goes: small wrinkles merge, the front settles into smooth arcs bulging into the fresh gas and meeting in sharp cusps, and in a domain of any width it ends with a single arc and a single cusp. That front is an exact solution made of poles in the complex plane, and its speed is a closed form that rises in steps as the domain admits more poles and then stops: beyond about five neutral wavelengths a wider flame is no faster, because it is the same shape at a larger size.
The pressure a parcel remembers keeps it finite
The restricted Euler equation follows a parcel's velocity gradient with the pressure's shape thrown away, and every gradient it follows blows up. Give the parcel back a pressure that remembers how its neighbourhood was deformed over the last Kolmogorov time — nothing more — and no gradient blows up at all. The ensemble settles into the teardrop measured in turbulence, its vorticity lines up with the middle strain axis, and its intermittency grows as the memory shortens. What the memory cannot do is keep the one identity homogeneity demands, and that miss says where the rest of the pressure lives.
A flame's speed limit holds only in silence
A quiet wrinkled flame settles into a single cusp and a speed it never exceeds, however wide it grows. Add noise and the limit is gone. A disturbance of one part in a million million already speeds the front up; one in a million makes it a third faster; and a noisy flame, unlike a quiet one, keeps getting faster as it gets wider, because every added width is room for more wrinkles to be born on its arcs and swept into its cusp. The quiet flame's speed is a property of a silence no burner has.
A squeezed tube is held open by its own fluid
A peristaltic pump with a prescribed wall wave gets better the more its wave closes the channel, and at closure it becomes a piston. A real one squeezes an elastic wall and lets the fluid push back. Then the channel never closes: the pressure ahead of the narrowest point holds a gap open that grows as the square root of the wall's give, squeezing harder past closure pumps less, and the pump behaves as a displacement pump until a pressure of about one over its compliance blows the throat open — with an efficiency that stops short of one by an amount that grows with the wall's give.
A parcel goes straight while the streamlines curve
In a steady flow every parcel accelerates while the picture never changes. The opposite also happens: a flow whose picture changes all the time while no parcel accelerates at all, because the local and convective halves of the acceleration cancel exactly. Such a flow has no pressure gradient anywhere, and that is a severe demand. An incompressible flow can meet it only as a pure shear at every point; a cloud that can compress meets it freely and pays later, when its straight paths cross in a caustic.
Drag decides whether a cloud folds, and the air decides at what
A cloud of free particles keeps its velocities, and wherever it converges its paths cross in finite time: a caustic, the density infinite along a sheet. Give each particle a drag on the air and the answer depends on what the air is doing. In still air the drag only brakes, and a cloud folds only if its Stokes number is above one. In air that is itself converging the drag keeps pushing, and a quarter is enough — the same quarter that decides whether a droplet hits a wing.
A coast sends the drift back, or sends it along
A shelf sea under a swell keeps part of the Stokes drift's transport, turned to the right by the rotating Earth, and near a coast some of it points at the land. The sea answers with a slope in its surface. In water shallower than an Ekman depth the slope drives the water straight back as an undertow, as it would without rotation; a few Ekman depths down the coast turns the transport into a current along the shore instead, and there the sea can slope down towards the land it faces.
A post holds liquid back by its radius, a stripe by its length
A surface of no-slip posts standing in a gas-filled texture lets liquid slip over it, and the slip length grows as one over the square root of the solid fraction, where a surface of stripes grows only as its logarithm. The reason is the oldest contrast in slow flow: a disc dragged through a viscous liquid has a drag proportional to its radius, which is Stokes' law, and a line has no finite drag at all, which is Stokes' paradox. But sparse posts beat stripes only while they are sparse.
A lattice of vortices folds a cloud at the saddles' quarter
A cloud of heavy particles folds in still air above a Stokes number of one, and in converging air above a quarter. Air that turns as well as converges might have settled between them. In a lattice of vortices it settles exactly on the quarter: the vortices fling the particles to the cell walls, but only the saddles where the walls meet can make them cross. Below the quarter nothing folds, and the cloud is gathered onto the walls without limit instead.
A sloping shelf puts the swell's current three Ekman depths down
A swell's Stokes transport arrives at a coast and the sea must send it back or turn it aside. On a flat shelf one depth decided which. On a real shelf, deepening from the beach to its edge, every depth is present at once, and the sea does both: it sets up a few centimetres against the beach, dips a tenth of a millimetre where the depth passes two Ekman depths, and runs a current along the shore that is fastest about three Ekman depths down — wherever the friction puts it.
Wobbling saddles keep the quarter, and raise it
Heavy particles in a steady lattice of vortices fold onto the cell walls only above a Stokes number of a quarter, the converging saddles' own threshold. Random flows fold at every Stokes number, so it was natural to suspect the quarter of belonging to steady saddles. Set the lattice wobbling and the particles cross from cell to cell, seventy per cent of them in forty time units, and still none folds below a quarter. The threshold belongs to the strongest strain the flow has; moving the saddles only moves particles out of reach of it, and raises the threshold.
A swept wall makes vorticity along its isobars, not across its flow
A still wall in a pressure gradient puts vorticity into the fluid at a rate set by the gradient, and the source is a vector: it lies in the wall, along the isobars. On an unswept body the isobars run across the flow and so does the vorticity, which is the ordinary boundary layer. On a swept one the isobars run along the span and the flow does not, so part of every new vortex line points along the flow — half of it, over the accelerating front of a cylinder swept 35°. That part is where a swept wing's crossflow comes from.
A stronger strain folds a cloud only if it lasts
Heavy particles in a lattice of vortices fold onto the walls above a Stokes number of a quarter of the saddles' strain. Let the strain pulse and the threshold moves — down to the quarter of the peak strain when the pulse is slow, back up to the quarter of the mean when it is fast — because a particle responds to the strain it has been in for about four strain times, not to the strain at the instant. In a random strain the same rule makes the folds arrive in bursts, at the excursions that are strong and long at once.
A nose at incidence makes its vorticity along the flow
A wall makes vorticity along its isobars, and on a swept wing that sends part of it along the flow. A fuselage at a few degrees of incidence has no sweep anywhere, and still most of the vorticity its wall makes points along the flow — a fifth for a body twice as long as it is wide, four-fifths for one eight times — because at incidence its pressure varies round the body faster than along it. A sphere, at any incidence, makes none. The lee vortices begin at the wall.
A noisy flame is still speeding up a hundred wavelengths wide
A quiet wrinkled flame gains a fixed, bounded amount of speed over a flat one, however wide it is. A noisy flame keeps getting faster as it widens, and the open question was whether that ever stops. Out to a hundred neutral wavelengths it does not. The speed grows as about the 0.43 power of the width at two noise strengths a thousandfold apart. The noise sets only the prefactor, and the front's slope grows with the speed until it leaves the range the equation was derived for — which is where the growth stops being the equation's to decide.
A cloud folds where a saddle is strong, not when
When every saddle of a lattice strengthens and weakens together, a cloud of heavy particles folds in one step, at the strain's first strong excursion. Give each saddle its own random strength and the folding spreads out into a steady rate — and falls, because a particle now has to be at a saddle while that saddle is strong. The rate follows the Gaussian tail of the strain, at about a tenth of the time the strain spends past its fold condition, and a longer-lived strain helps only up to a few strain times.
A bowed meniscus keeps most of its slip until the groove floods
The slip lengths of a striped superhydrophobic surface are computed with flat gas surfaces. Press the liquid against the texture and every meniscus bows into its groove as an arc pinned at the solid's edges, and the slip falls. It falls by less than the obvious worry says: at the pressure where a groove wall advancing at 120° lets the liquid in, a surface four-fifths gas still keeps 88 per cent of its slip, and even at a 150° wall's flood three-quarters remains. A striped surface does not lose its slip gradually under pressure. It keeps most of it, and then loses all of it when the groove floods.
An edge no observer can move still depends on what it is averaged against
The Q-criterion puts a co-rotating vortex pair in four per cent of a window for one observer and in more than half of it for another. The cure is to average, along each fluid path, how far the vorticity departs from its mean — a number no observer's rotation can change — and take the outermost convex level of it round each core. Computed, it works: both observers find two discs of radius 1.00, twice the core radius, and no fluid inside them strays from its core in an orbit. But the edge has a setting of its own. The mean must be taken over some region, and as that region grows from a radius of 4 to 20 the edge moves from 0.90 to 1.13.
A gas's viscosity ignores its pressure until the free path reaches the walls
Maxwell predicted in 1860 that a gas's viscosity does not depend on its density — halve the pressure and half as many molecules carry momentum across the flow, each twice as far — and measured it with swinging discs in 1866: unchanged from an atmosphere to a sixtieth of one. Solved across every pressure with the kinetic equation, the shear a gas transmits between two plates obeys him over five decades and then, once the free path reaches the gap, falls in proportion to the pressure. A millimetre gap reads half the true viscosity at fifteen pascals, and a vacuum gauge reads pressure from exactly that fall.
A stagnation point can leave the flow through the wall, and the count is kept by halves
A no-slip wall is a sheet of zeros, so the index count that holds for a flow in open space has nothing to count there. Divide the velocity by the height and the wall's zeros shrink to the skin friction's nodes, foci and saddles; reflect the result through the wall and each of them is counted once while every point in the fluid is counted twice. That is why the points on a wall are halves, and an exact swirling flow onto a plate shows the halves doing their job: a stagnation point in the fluid can disappear without a partner by sinking into the wall, where the skin friction's focus changes from attachment to separation to pay for it. A section through the flow sees none of this, because in the section every one of the points is a saddle.
A stagnation point off the axis can land only on a saddle or a node, and turns it inside out
In a swirling flow onto a plate every stagnation point lived on the axis, so one sinking to the wall always met the wall's single critical point. Without the symmetry it might seem free to land anywhere — on an ordinary stretch of skin-friction line, leaving a pair of new points behind. It cannot. Divided by the height, the velocity is continuous down to the wall, where it becomes the skin friction, so a point can only reach the wall where the skin friction already vanishes. It lands on a saddle or a node, and the count does the rest: the point it lands on turns from separation to attachment. An oil-flow picture of the wall, which shows the same pattern before and after, cannot tell which it is looking at.
Roll waves stop merging at a spacing their fronts choose
On a steep chute the uniform flow breaks into a train of surges, and the train coarsens: a taller surge runs faster, catches the one ahead and swallows it, so the spacing grows down the chute. If the merging never stopped, the spacing in a photograph would only record how far the water had come. Marched down a long channel from noise, it stops. After a few hundred units of travel the surges stop catching each other and the train keeps its spacing for as long as it is followed. The spacing it keeps is not set by the chute or the noise but by the dissipation inside the surge fronts — which is the one part of the flow the shallow-water equations describe only roughly.