Field

What is taught wrongly

Equal transit time, Bernoulli misapplied, and the rest. Each stated fairly, then tested against a solved flow and found false.

Two parcels released together do not arrive together. The most repeated explanation of lift says that air parting at the leading edge must meet again at the trailing edge, so the longer upper path forces a higher speed. Released into the solved field, the upper parcel arrives long before the lower one — the premise is simply false, and the real speed difference is larger than it would require.

The story about air meeting up again

The most repeated explanation of lift says that air parting at the nose must rejoin at the tail, so the longer upper path forces a higher speed. The premise is false, and the speed it predicts is wrong by a factor of twenty.

The hypotheses Bernoulli's equation needs. The equation is correct and its hypotheses are strict. Most misuse is not a wrong formula but a right formula carried across a streamline, through a machine, or into a region where viscosity dominates.

Where Bernoulli's equation applies

The equation is right. Its hypotheses are strict, and almost all misuse is a correct formula carried somewhere it does not hold — across streamlines, through a fan, or into the one layer where friction is the whole story.

A control volume round an aerofoil. A rectangle drawn in the fluid around a lifting section. The arrows on the right-hand face show the downward velocity of the air leaving it, drawn to scale. Adding the momentum carried through all four faces to the pressure acting on them gives the force on whatever is inside, without the calculation ever going near the surface.

Air must be pushed down, and the usual sum is wrong

The momentum explanation of lift is the one physicists reach for, and it is right — a wing does hold itself up by throwing air downwards. The version usually given then does the accounting badly, and the face of the control volume it keeps turns out to carry the least of it.

Four ways of photographing one flow, and what each of them records. The same solved flow, rendered as four different laboratory techniques would record it. Smoke from a port gives a streakline; tufts give direction with no speed in it at all; an oil film gives the direction of the friction on the surface rather than the flow above it; pressure taps give a scalar with no direction in it. None of the four is the velocity field, and only the first happens to coincide with a streamline, because this flow is steady.

What a photograph of a flow shows

Wind-tunnel pictures are the evidence this whole subject is argued from, and hardly anybody says which quantity a given technique records. They are not interchangeable — smoke, tufts, oil and pressure taps measure four different things, and none of them is the velocity field.

What the airspeed indicator believes

A pitot tube measures the difference between two pressures, correctly, at every speed. Everything wrong with an airspeed reading is in the arithmetic applied to that difference — and the error is 2.3 per cent at Mach 0.3 and 19.4 per cent at Mach 0.85.

The lift curve that made flight look impossible. Lift coefficient against incidence, by Newton's impact theory and by thin-aerofoil theory. One is quadratic in the angle and the other linear, so at small incidence — which is where aircraft fly — they differ by more than an order of magnitude. Newton's version says a wing large enough to carry a man would need an engine nobody could build, and for a century that arithmetic was taken as settling the question.

The theory that forbade flight

Newton treated air as a hail of particles that give up their normal momentum on impact, and got a lift coefficient of 2sin²α cos α. At five degrees that is a thirty-sixth of what a wing actually makes, and the quadratic is why powered flight looked arithmetically impossible for two centuries. The same formula is exact at Mach twenty.

What a barometer on the wing would read at 60 m/s. The absolute pressure along an aerofoil's surface, in kilopascals, with the atmosphere put back. Nothing on the wing is near zero: the deepest point of the so-called suction peak is a few per cent below a hundred kilopascals, and the air there is still pushing on the wing hard enough to hold up a column of itself eight kilometres tall. The lift is the difference between two large pushes, not a pull.

Nothing sucks

The upper surface of a wing is universally described as being under suction, which sounds like a pull. A fluid cannot pull. The lowest absolute pressure on a wing at sixty metres a second is 96 kilopascals — a five per cent dip in a hundred — and the force does not depend on where zero was put, because the normals of a closed body sum to nothing.

The effect that explains nothing

A jet follows a curved wall and the wall feels a suction. Both are real, both are famous, and naming them after Coandă explains neither — what is happening is the normal component of Euler's equation, and it holds on every curved streamline in every flow.

The bath is ten thousand times too small. The Rossby number — the ratio of the inertial term to the Coriolis term in the momentum equation — for eight flows at 45 degrees, on a logarithmic axis. Above one, rotation is a correction; below one, it is the physics. A draining bath sits at 3.2e+3 and a mid-latitude depression at 1.9e-1. The Coriolis term is not absent from the bath: it is present, computable, and four orders of magnitude smaller than the terms that decide what happens. Saying so is not the same as saying it is zero.

The bath does not know the hemisphere

The Coriolis term in a draining bath is not absent. It is present, computable, and about four hundred times smaller than what a hand left in the water an hour ago is still doing — which is a ratio rather than an opinion, and it is the same kind of argument as a Reynolds number.

Two heights, and only one of them is in the answer. A siphon, with the two heights that get confused. The drop from the source surface to the outlet is what drives the flow: the exit speed is √(2gΔz) = 4.43 m/s and nothing else enters it. The rise to the crown decides the pressure at the top — 72.0 kPa absolute here, against an atmosphere of 101.3 — and therefore whether the column holds together at all. A siphon over a high wall and one over a kerb, draining to the same place, flow at exactly the same rate.

The siphon that does not need the air

A siphon is explained everywhere by the atmosphere pushing the liquid over the hump. The flow rate says otherwise, in the flattest way available — the height of the hump does not appear in it at all. What the atmosphere does is hold the column together, which is a different job with a different limit.

There is a constriction, and it is a consequence rather than a cause. A cambered section at 5 degrees, with one streamtube traced above it and one below. The tube above narrows by 16 per cent at mid-chord and the tube below by -112 per cent, so the venturi story's premise is true: the flow over the top really is squeezed more than the flow underneath. The difficulty is that the tube's upper boundary is a streamline, not a wall. Nothing put it there but the solution of the whole flow — the same solution that already contains the lift — so the narrowing is a way of describing the answer rather than a reason for it.

Not half a venturi

The air above a wing really is squeezed into a narrower channel, it really does speed up, and the pressure really does fall. Every step of the story is true and the whole is still not an explanation, because the channel's upper wall is a streamline — and where a streamline went is part of the answer, not part of the question.

The left wall is not a speed, it is an angle drawn in speed coordinates. The V–n diagram: every combination of speed and load factor the aircraft can reach. The curved left boundary is the wing at its stalling angle — n = ½ρV²S C_Lmax /W, a parabola — and it is the same limit at every point along it. The flat top and bottom are the structure. Where the two meet is the corner speed, 56.6 metres per second here: the slowest speed at which the aircraft can reach its limit load factor, and therefore the speed at which it turns hardest. Above it the wing can pull more than the structure allows — at the never-exceed speed it could reach 9.6g before stalling — and the pilot's limit stops being the air.

An angle, not a speed

The number is printed in the handbook, marked in white on the airspeed indicator and used in every briefing, and the wing has no way of knowing it. A wing stalls at an angle. The speed at which an aeroplane reaches that angle is an answer with four other variables in it, and every one of them moves.

One calculation is about the animal; the other is about how fast it happens to be going. The mean lift coefficient required of each animal's wings, computed two ways, on a log scale. Treating the wings as fixed and flying them at the animal's forward speed gives answers spanning a factor of 29 — from 0.88 to 26 — because the number is governed by a speed that has nothing to do with how the animal makes its lift. Doing the flapping arithmetic gives answers spanning a factor of 1.90. And in a hover the fixed-wing calculation has no answer at all: there is no dynamic pressure, and no coefficient however large will do. That is the version of the famous claim that is actually true, and it is a statement about the calculation rather than about the bee.

The bee that cannot fly

The claim has a traceable origin and the calculation behind it was a real calculation done with the wrong velocity. Doing it with the right one gives a number an aerofoil might plausibly produce — and still leaves a gap, and the gap is what took another sixty years to close.

$What the ground actually gives a wing. Induced drag near the ground as a fraction of the same wing's in free air, against height in spans, at constant lift. The ground is a plane of symmetry, so the wake is joined by a mirrored wake of opposite circulation below it, and the upwash from that image is what takes the drag away. At a tenth of a span the wing keeps 0.516 of its induced drag — a saving of 48 per cent — and by a span and a half the effect is 1.3 per cent and going. The lift is held fixed all the way along this curve: what the ground gives here is not more lift, it is the same lift for less drag, and the two are different claims about a landing aeroplane.$

The cushion that is not there

Ground effect is usually explained as air trapped under the wing and compressed into a cushion. At the heights an aeroplane actually flies at, the air under the wing is moving at four fifths of flight speed and most of what the ground gives is a drag saving the story never mentions.

The air a wing does not carry

No slip says the air touching a surface moves with it, and the usual reading is that a wing drags a blanket of air along. The blanket is 1.7 millimetres thick per metre of chord, it is different air every instant, and the drag it costs falls as it gets thicker.

A millionth, doubling every three-quarters of a second. The separation of two trajectories started a millionth apart, on log axes against time. It grows as a straight line until it saturates at the size of the attractor, and the slope of that line is the largest Lyapunov exponent — measured here on the system by renormalising a nearby pair, not quoted. Sensitive dependence is what the straightness of the line means.

The randomness that is not in the equations

Turbulence is described in the language of statistics — means, variances, spectra, probability distributions — and none of that language appears in the equations it is a description of. The Navier–Stokes equations have no random term anywhere in them. What is random is the observer's ignorance of the initial data, and the flow's habit of amplifying it.

An hour for every tenfold

Turbulence is deterministic and unpredictable, and the exchange rate between those two is exact: measuring the initial state ten times better buys the same extra forecast time every time, for ever. A constant, and it belongs to the flow rather than to the instrument.

Three accounts of lift, one of them tuned to be exactly right at five degrees. Thin-aerofoil theory, which is the answer; Newtonian impact theory with its constant tuned so that it passes exactly through the truth at five degrees; and the equal-transit story, which has no free constant and sits along the bottom. At the tuning point the tuned model and the truth are indistinguishable, and no measurement there separates them.

A right total from a wrong picture

Newtonian impact theory has a free constant in it. Tuned at five degrees it reproduces a NACA 2412's lift exactly, and no measurement at five degrees can tell it from the truth. What separates them is the derivative — a lift-curve slope 2.8 times too steep — which is a second constraint rather than a better one.

The effect that is real, and where it stops

The Coandă effect has a genuine mechanism, and it is the same equation that makes the suction on a wing. What separates the two is where the integral comes from: a wall jet generates all of its pressure deficit inside a layer two per cent of the radius thick, and a cylinder in a stream needs a third of a radius for half of it.

One sheared stream, and the total pressure across it. A parallel shear flow is an exact steady solution of the Euler equations, and the momentum equation requires its static pressure to be uniform. So the total pressure is entirely the dynamic pressure, which varies with the speed — by three and a fifth dynamic heads across this layer, on a flow where the static pressure does not vary at all.

Four Bernoullis and one name

"Bernoulli's equation" names at least four statements with four different constants, three domains of validity and one shared reputation for being misapplied. A single sheared stream separates the first three: its total pressure is constant along every streamline, varies by three dynamic heads across them, and its static pressure never moves at all.

Four sections, and what the shape story says about each. A flat plate, a symmetric section twelve per cent thick, a cambered one, and a section with a wavy upper skin. The first two have upper and lower surfaces of exactly equal length; the last has an upper surface two and a half per cent longer than its lower one, which is twice the cambered section's excess.

The wing that is flat, and flies

Refuting the equal-transit story by computing the parcels leaves its premise standing, and the premise is the part most readers believe: that the shape is what makes the lift. It is a claim about shapes, so it is tested with shapes — a flat plate, a symmetric section, and a cambered one flown upside down.

$Where four insects have to turn round. Wagner's function — the fraction of its eventual circulation a wing has built after a stated distance of travel — with the half-stroke of each of four insects marked on it. Every one of them reverses while the curve is still climbing, so no insect wing ever reaches the circulation a steady calculation assigns it.$

A calculation with no memory in it

The bee calculation is famous for using the wrong velocity. Done with the right one it still falls short, and the reason is structural: a quasi-steady sum is a statement about a wing that has always been going, and an insect's wing travels between two and five chord lengths before it turns round.

The exposure lengths that give the true mean, and the ones that do not. How far a finite exposure of a shedding wake lands from the long-exposure mean, against how many shedding periods the shutter was open for. It is exactly zero at every whole number of periods — an average over a complete cycle is the mean, with no error at all — and between the zeros it falls as one over the exposure. Nothing about the picture tells the reader which of these they are looking at.

The shutter is part of the answer

Flow photographs are compared as though the exposure were a detail of the camera. It is a term in the measurement: an average over exactly one shedding period returns the true mean to fourteen figures, any other length carries a residue that falls only as one over the exposure, and a two-pulse velocity reading is short by exactly the sinc of the swept angle.

$What the phase reaches, and what it does not. The difference between the two records, as a fraction, for five quantities. The variance and the autocorrelation are the same to machine precision because they are the spectrum. A narrow-band linear oscillator answers its own frequency and almost nothing else, so it is nearly phase-blind too. Everything extremal — the crest, the peak drag load, the range of the running integral — is not.$

The same statistics, and a different load

A wind or wave specification is written as a spectrum, and a spectrum discards the phases. Two records built from one spectrum agree in variance to thirteen figures and in peak drag load by twenty per cent — and with the phases lined up, the same spectrum is a single impulse thirty-one times worse.

The number that settles the argument. How many turns the earth's contribution gets through in the time the vessel takes to drain: the draining time divided by the rotation period at the drain. A bathtub manages a tenth of one and there is nothing to see. The apparatus that settled it manages nearly nineteen hundred, and that is the whole of what its enormous area-to-drain ratio was for.

The bath that was only ever a wait

The Coriolis force is far too weak to steer a draining bath, and it does steer a large enough tank that has been left alone long enough. Both are true, and the number that separates them is not a force ratio — it is how many turns the earth's contribution gets through before the vessel is empty.

The one calculation in which the atmosphere really does push. How high a partial vacuum inside the tube will raise the liquid, against the absolute pressure achieved inside it. The lift is (p_atm − p_inside)/ρg and it is capped at the barometric height of 10.11 m, because below the vapour pressure the liquid boils and pulling harder buys nothing. The horizontal lines are five crown heights: a crown below a line's intersection with the curve can be primed by suction and one above it cannot, at any pump. This is the process the running siphon's argument explicitly excluded, and it is the one where the atmospheric account is the mechanism rather than a limit.

The one place the atmosphere pushes

The height of a siphon's hump is not in its flow rate, and the atmosphere holds the column together rather than driving it. That account excludes one process by name — starting. That is the process the atmospheric account describes correctly, and it is the only one in the whole device.

The source falls 6 m and the crown pressure does not move. The pressure at the crown of a draining siphon, against time, as the source level falls from the top of the tank to the end of the run, a drop of 6 m. It is flat to 1.5e-11 pascals — not nearly flat, exactly flat, because the two effects of a falling source cancel identically. Losing a metre of level shrinks the drop, which slows the flow and raises the crown pressure by half a velocity head; and it grows the rise, which lowers the crown pressure by ρg per metre. Those are the same number. So a siphon that starts will not break as it drains, however far the level falls, and the run ended because the level reached the outlet instead.

The siphon that does not break

A draining reservoir shrinks the drop and grows the rise at the same time, and the siphon's own coupling — a metre of extra drop costs a metre of hump — says a siphon should break as it empties. It does not. The two effects cancel exactly, and the crown pressure of a draining siphon is a constant that does not contain the source level at all.

One sign change, and both of a stall's surprises follow from it. A lift curve with a peak, and the rolling moment a wing makes against its own roll at the same incidence. Below the peak the slope of the lift curve is positive, the down-going wing makes more lift, and the roll is opposed. Past the peak the slope is negative, the down-going wing makes less, and the roll is reinforced. The stalling angle here is 16.46° and the damping changes sign at 17.07°. Nothing in this picture is a spin yet — a spin needs yaw as well — but the engine that drives one is the crossing of that line.

A roll that feeds itself

A spin is routinely described as a stall that got worse, and it is not a stall at all in the sense of an angle rather than a speed. It is autorotation — a roll that sustains itself because past the peak of the lift curve the down-going wing makes less lift rather than more — and the arithmetic says it begins a little past the stalling angle rather than at it.

A high tail buys a second trim point, at 31.52 degrees. The pitching moment of two layouts against incidence, with the stable trim points marked. Both cross zero with a negative slope near 0.76°, which is the ordinary cruise trim. Past the stall the conventional layout's tail is caught only glancingly by the wake and its moment stays nose-down, so it has no second crossing; the T-tail's tail is swept into the wake and sees 12 per cent of the dynamic pressure, its download collapses, and the wing's own nose-up moment carries the curve back across zero at 31.52°. That second crossing is stable — the slope there is negative too — which means an aircraft that reaches it stays there.

A stall that is a place

A stall is an event, and the usual accounts treat it as one — a boundary reached, a damping lost. A high tailplane makes it something else. Swept into the wing's wake, the tail loses the download that held the nose up, and the aircraft finds a second stable trim point thirty degrees past the stall from which the elevator cannot bring it back.

Identical lift at every altitude, and the skin load nearly doubles. The same wing at the same dynamic pressure at seven altitudes. The lift is identical at every one of them — the flat line, computed from the absolute pressures rather than assumed, because a net force cannot depend on where the pressure datum is set. The load on a vented panel is identical too, at 4.86 kPa, because both sides of it moved together. The load on a sealed panel with 75.26 kPa inside is not: it is 28.27 kPa at sea level and 60.84 kPa at twelve kilometres. The datum cancelled in the force and it is one of the two numbers in the stress.

A force forgets the datum, a stress cannot

Nothing sucks, because the pressure datum cancels — the normals of a closed body sum to nothing, so the lift is the same in gauge or absolute pressure. That identity is about a resultant, and it is routinely carried one step too far. The load on a panel of skin has the ambient in it as one of two numbers, not as a datum.

Four bodies, four drag coefficients, and no flow was solved. Four bodies with their Newtonian drag coefficients, each computed as a quadrature over its own surface with no flow solution anywhere. The cone's answer is exactly 2sin²δ, checked against the closed form to nine decimal places; the flat disc's is exactly 2, since every element of it faces the stream; and the sphere's is 1 against the classical Newtonian value of 1. Every one of those is an integral of one expression over a shape, and none of them required knowing what the air was doing anywhere.

The only theory simple enough to optimise

Whether Newton's sine-squared law is right has two answers — hopeless at the speeds he argued about, nearly exact behind a strong shock. This asks a different question about the same formula. Its pressure depends only on the local surface angle, so a shape's drag is a quadrature rather than a solution, and the best shape can be found by calculus.

Two integrands, and the wrong one claims 9.58 per cent more drag. The two things that get integrated across a wake, each scaled to its own peak so the shapes can be compared. The momentum integrand u(U − u)/U² is the drag; the mass integrand (U − u)/U is the displacement thickness, and it is not a drag at all. They differ by a factor of u/U inside them, so the mass one is fatter wherever the deficit is deep — and its integral here is 1.1 times the momentum one's. That ratio is decided by how deep the wake is rather than by how wide: at a twentieth of this momentum thickness it falls to 1, and at twice it rises to 1.25. The error is smallest exactly where a survey is properly done, far downstream where the wake has spread and shallowed.

Weighing what is missing

A control volume drawn round a wing gets the lift out of it, on a flow that was solved exactly. The wake survey asks the same box for the drag on a flow nobody has solved, and it is how a real aerofoil's drag is known — with three assumptions, all of which are checkable, and one integral standing next to it that is wrong.

The one term in ground effect that really is about carried air. The added mass of a plate approaching a plane, as a multiple of its free-air value. In free air a plate borrows ρπc²/4 per unit span — exactly 0.79 for a unit chord in unit density, which is the mass of the circle its chord spans. Near a wall the fluid in the gap must leave sideways through a narrowing passage, so it moves faster than it would in the open and carries more energy: the borrowed mass grows as the inverse of the gap and diverges as the gap closes. At half a chord it is 1.21 times, at a tenth 2.06, at a twentieth 3.12. This is a cushion in the ordinary sense — fluid that has to be got out of the way and resists being — and it is the term the steady argument has none of.

The cushion that is there after all

A wing near the ground makes more lift for reasons that have no cushion in them, and that account cannot reach two cases — a wing descending, and a rotor in the hover, where there is no steady flight for the image-vortex account to be about. Those cases have a term that really is about carried air, and it grows without limit as the gap closes.

$Three instruments, three derivatives, one field. A density field — a shock, smoothed to its own thickness — and what each of the three optical techniques records across it, each scaled to its own peak so the shapes can be compared. Interferometry follows the density itself; schlieren follows its first derivative and peaks where the density is changing fastest; shadowgraph follows the second and is a light-and-dark pair straddling the same place. None of them is looking at the flow: the refractive index of a gas is linear in its density, so every one of them is a densitometer and the differences between them are differences of calculus rather than of apparatus.$

An instrument that takes a derivative

Dye, smoke and seeded particles mark the fluid and read the marks. The optical ones mark nothing — light passes through and is bent — and what a plate records is not the flow but a derivative of its density. Two of the three are therefore exactly blind to a uniform stream, at any speed it happens to have.

A degree of temperature is worth 0.34 per cent of pressure. The error in the pressure a paint reports, against how much warmer the surface is at the test condition than at the reference, at four pressures. At 0.8 of the reference pressure the sensitivity is -0.34 per cent of pressure per kelvin, so 10 degrees is -3.45 per cent. That is not a small number against what the technique is used to measure, and a model's surface temperature is not uniform: it is warmer where the flow has been brought to rest and cooler where it has accelerated, which means the temperature error is largest exactly where the pressure gradients are. The standard remedy is a second, temperature-sensitive paint measured at the same time — an instrument added to correct an instrument.

The paint that measures the wrong field

Dye, seeded particles and the optical methods all look through the flow or at something put in it. Pressure-sensitive paint looks at the surface, reports a scalar rather than a derivative, and turns a row of taps into a field. What quenches its luminescence is oxygen, which is what makes it a pressure gauge — and temperature, which is the other field a flow is guaranteed to produce.

100 metres of water, −1.98 MPa absolute at the top. The absolute pressure up a transpiring column 100 metres tall, with the sap rising at 0.25 mm/s through conduits 40 µm across. It starts at 1.3 kPa at the root, falls by 9.79 kPa a metre for gravity and 10.02 for friction, and reaches −1.98 MPa at the top — below zero, which is not a low push but a pull. The pale line is the same column with nothing flowing. The floor is not the vapour pressure but the pore a gas bubble could be drawn through: −2.81 MPa for a 50 nm pore, which this column would reach at 142 metres. A suction pump lifting the same water from a free surface stops at 10.1 metres, because it offers the water somewhere to boil.

Where a liquid does pull

A fluid cannot pull, and the essays that settle what suction is are right about every gas and every liquid with a free surface near it. A liquid with nothing in it to boil on is another matter. Every tree taller than ten metres depends on the difference, and the floor under it is set by the size of a pore rather than by the vapour pressure.

A tube 10 cm across, spun: the lowest pressure is on the axis. The absolute pressure along a water-filled tube spun about its middle, open to the air at both ends, 5 cm from the axis. In the spinning frame the water is at rest under a centrifugal pull, so the pressure falls from atmospheric at each meniscus to its lowest on the axis, as a parabola. 10 thousand rpm puts −1.3 MPa there, 20 thousand rpm puts −5.4 MPa there, 30 thousand rpm puts −12.2 MPa there and 45 thousand rpm puts −27.6 MPa there. The place the water is stretched hardest is the place furthest from both free surfaces, which is the whole merit of the method: a gas cannot reach the liquid where it is weakest.

A breaking strength that is the size of a flaw

Water can be stretched, and how far is a measurement people have made for a century and a half with instruments that agree with one another and not with the theory. Spinning a tube puts the stretch where no gas can reach it, sealing one caps the stretch at water's density maximum, and every measured number turns out to name the size of the worst cavity in the sample.

Friction lends the crown 28.4 kPa, and the tank takes it back. The absolute pressure at the crown of a siphon with friction in its hose, through a whole drain, for the crown placed at three positions along the hose, against the frictionless constant of 23.01 kPa. With the crown 0.3 of the way it starts at 63.3 kPa, with the crown 0.5 along it starts at 51.5 kPa and with the crown 0.7 of the way it starts at 40.4 kPa. Every curve is above the constant, every curve falls towards it as the level falls, and every curve reaches it at the end — 23.06 kPa with a centimetre of level left. Friction never brings a siphon nearer to breaking; it lends a margin, and the draining tank returns it pascal by pascal, so the worst the crown ever sees is the frictionless value.

The margin friction lends a siphon

Without friction a draining siphon's crown pressure does not depend on the source level at all, and every real hose has friction. It turns out always to raise the crown pressure, by an amount the draining tank hands back pascal by pascal — and how much it lends is decided by where along the hose the crown sits, not by how rough or how narrow the hose is.

A litre of water at the crown carries 77 mL of gas it cannot hold. The volume of free gas a litre of air-saturated water can release at a siphon's crown, at the crown's own pressure, against that pressure, on a logarithmic scale, at three temperatures. It is zero at atmospheric and grows without limit towards the vapour pressure. At the reference siphon's starting crown pressure of 51.5 kPa it is 20.6 mL, a supersaturation of 2.02; at the frictionless floor of 23.0 kPa it is 76.7 mL, a supersaturation of 4.79. Cold water carries more: 87.4 mL at 5 °C. This is the equilibrium bound — what would come out if the water stayed long enough, which it does not.

The air that breaks a siphon nothing else can

A running siphon's heights cannot break it, and its friction only postpones the moment it is most exposed. What does break a siphon that has run for a day is the air dissolved in its water, which the crown's low pressure leaves the water carrying far more of than it can hold — and which gathers only once the flow is too slow to carry a bubble away.

The cushion changes its physics 0.36 mm from the ground. The two forces on a plate 10 cm across closing on a plane at 1 m/s in air at 20 °C, per metre of span, against the gap on logarithmic axes. The viscous squeeze film, Reynolds' lubrication result μVc³/h³, rises as the cube of the closeness; the inertial one, ρV²c³/24h² from the potential flow's added mass, as the square. They are equal where the gap Reynolds number ρVh/μ is exactly 24, at 0.361 mm, where each is 3.84e+2 N/m. Above that gap the cushion is the fluid's inertia and below it the fluid's viscosity — and at the crossover neither formula is accurate, since it is where one limit hands over to the other rather than a solution of the flow between them.

A cushion that changes its physics

A plate closing on a plane is resisted by the fluid it has to squeeze out, and the resistance is two different forces with two different laws — one from the fluid's inertia and one from its viscosity. They hand over at a gap of twenty-four kinematic viscosities per unit of closing speed, which for a wing in air is a third of a millimetre, and the two films disagree about whether the plate ever lands at all.

The same plate borrows more near a wall and less near a free surface. The added mass of a plate closing broadside on a boundary, as a multiple of its free-air value, against the gap in chords on a logarithmic axis, for a solid wall and for a boundary held at constant pressure — a free surface struck quickly, or the edge of an open jet. At a tenth of a chord the wall gives 1.966 and the free boundary 0.677; at 0.035 chords 3.97 and 0.584. The wall's value grows without limit as the gap closes, because the fluid in the gap has to be squeezed out. The free boundary's falls towards exactly one half, because a plate lying on a free surface sets in motion only the half-space below it. Same plate, same fluid, same speed — the boundary decides the sign, through the one thing it is allowed to tell the flow.

The borrowed mass the boundary decides

A body accelerating near a solid wall has to squeeze out the fluid between them, and borrows more mass than it would in the open. The same body accelerating near a free surface, or inside an open-jet wind tunnel, borrows less. The fluid, the body and the speed are identical, and what reverses the answer is the one thing each boundary is allowed to tell the flow.

A window one core wide reads the vortex 7.5 per cent slow. The tangential velocity across a Lamb–Oseen vortex, in units of its core radius and of Γ/2π divided by it, as it is and as particle image velocimetry reports it with square interrogation windows of three widths — the average of the velocity over each window, which is what a correlation over the window returns to first order. The true peak is 0.6382 at 1.1209 core radii. A window 0.5 core radii wide reports 98.0 per cent of it, 1.021 times as far out, a window 1 core radii wide reports 92.5 per cent of it, 1.084 times as far out and a window 2 core radii wide reports 77.1 per cent of it, 1.334 times as far out. The instrument that measures velocity directly still reports a slower, fatter vortex than the one there, by an amount set entirely by the window against the core.

The window every vector is averaged over

Particle image velocimetry is the one flow-visualisation technique that reports the velocity itself, and it still applies an operator: every vector is an average over an interrogation window. A window is a filter with a transfer function, and it makes a vortex slower and fatter, a thin shear layer exactly as thick as the window, and some features smaller than the window point the wrong way.

One per cent of noise on the image, 1.43 on the axis. The field recovered by onion peeling on 50 rings from one view carrying noise of one per cent of the instrument's own peak reading, from an interferometer's projection and from a schlieren system's deflection, against the true field. On the axis, where the truth is 1, the projection gives 1.431 and the deflection 0.876; over the whole radius their root-mean-square errors are 0.0742 and 0.0219, so the deflection is the quieter route here. Near the edge both are clean, and the error gathers towards the axis — where the field is largest and the flow usually most interesting.

One view is enough, and the axis pays for it

An axisymmetric flow — a jet, a plume, a flame — can be reconstructed from a single optical view, because Abel's integral inverts exactly. The inversion runs from the outside in, every error made on the way reaches the axis, and whether it arrives multiplied depends on which instrument took the picture.

A water sheet two millimetres thick leaves the lip above 0.270 m/s. The effective tension of a sheet of water, 2σ − ρU²h per metre of its width, against the speed it is poured at, for sheets one, two and four millimetres thick. At rest every sheet carries the tension of its two surfaces, 145.4 mN/m, and the momentum it carries along itself subtracts from that. A 1 mm sheet reaches zero at 0.382 m/s, a 2 mm sheet reaches zero at 0.270 m/s and a 4 mm sheet reaches zero at 0.191 m/s. Below its own crossing a sheet bent round a lip is pulled onto it; above, it is flung off. The quantity that decides is a tension, not a pressure, and the speed at which it vanishes is the speed of waves along the sheet.

The teapot effect is a tension, not a pressure

A slow pour runs back under a spout and down its outside, and the name it is usually given is the Coandă effect. The Coandă effect borrows the ambient pressure, and a liquid in air has none to borrow. A liquid sheet is held to a lip by its own surface tension, and it lets go at the one speed that tension cannot carry — the speed of waves along the sheet — whatever the lip's radius.

$The shaded face's share of the force is set by K, and it is not small until K is. The fraction of a flat plate's normal force carried by its leeward face against K = M sin α, at Mach 3, 5, 10, 20, with the hypersonic small-disturbance value and the share the leeward face would have at vacuum (dashed). Newtonian theory puts it at zero. The curves collapse on K: the small-disturbance share is 35.7 per cent at K = 0.5, 24.2 at 1, 11.2 at 2 and 3.4 at 4, and the vacuum bound is 28.8, 11.4 and 3.4 per cent at 1, 2 and 4. The zero is a good approximation only where K is large — which is also the only place the Newtonian windward pressure is itself accurate.$

The face Newton left in shadow

Newtonian theory gives a surface turned away from the stream a pressure coefficient of exactly zero, and at hypersonic speed the rest of the theory is nearly right. The shaded face is not. Computed exactly on a flat plate, its share of the force depends on the similarity parameter K = M sin α rather than on the Mach number, it is a quarter of the force at K = 1, and it moves a hypersonic plate's best lift-to-drag ratio from 5 to 7 at Mach 10.

The trailing sheet rolls up into two vortices, and nothing it carries is lost. The trailing vortex sheet behind an elliptically loaded wing, seen in a plane across the wake, at times 0, 0.05, 0.2, 0.6 in units of b²/Γ₀, represented by 160 point vortices with a smoothing length of 0.03 of the span. The tips curl up first and the sheet winds into two concentrated vortices while the whole system sinks under its own induced velocity; by t = 0.6 the pair's centroid has descended 0.122 of the span. Through all of it the crossflow energy — the induced drag — and the separation of the two halves' centroids, 0.7854 of the span, stay exactly what they were.

The drag a wake keeps however it rolls up

A plane drawn across the wake of a finite wing contains its induced drag as the kinetic energy of the swirling crossflow. The trailing sheet then rolls up into two vortices, and the energy does not change at all — roll-up moves the drag around the plane without spending any of it. What does spend it is viscosity, which turns crossflow energy into a total-pressure defect, so a plane farther back reads less induced drag, more profile drag, and the same total.

Below a critical downstream pressure the flow rate stops listening. The flow rate through the meter against the downstream pressure, for upstream pressures of 3 bar, 5 bar, 7 bar. As the downstream pressure falls the flow rises — until the throat reaches vapour pressure, after which it is flat: 0.470 L/s from 3 bar, reached at 2.554 bar downstream; 0.608 L/s from 5 bar, reached at 4.254 bar downstream; 0.720 L/s from 7 bar, reached at 5.954 bar downstream. Everything to the left of each knee delivers the same flow, so the device holds its flow rate against any disturbance downstream.

The venturi that stops listening downstream

In a venturi with real walls, the narrowing-speeds-it-up story is exact: continuity and Bernoulli run forward from the drawing. Followed far enough, the same story predicts its own limit. The throat's pressure cannot fall below the liquid's vapour pressure, and once it gets there the flow rate stops responding to anything downstream — the meter has become a limiter, and its throat is supersonic for the vapour-laden mixture passing through it.

A force that depends on the molecular scale only through its logarithm. The force per unit length needed to move a 30° contact line of water at 1 mm/s, out to 1 mm, against the slip length on a logarithmic axis, from a picometre to a tenth of a millimetre. Each tenfold change in the slip length moves the force by the same fixed amount, so eight decades of the most uncertain length in the problem change the answer by a factor of about twenty — and at zero slip length the line keeps rising without end. The dashed curve takes the exact wedge's angle factor with a sharp cutoff; the solid one the thin-film wedge with Navier slip.

The drop a no-slip wall would never let spread

Liquid touching a solid moves with it, and nearly everywhere that is as close to exact as anything in fluid mechanics. At the edge of a spreading drop it cannot be: the stress in the corner rises as one over the distance from the edge, and the force needed to move the edge is infinite. Something slips over a nanometre, and because the answer depends on that length only through its logarithm, a drop spreads at almost the same rate whatever the something is.

The throat holds the hammer back only while its cavity lasts. Left, pressure at the closing valve (red) and at the upstream face of the venturi (gold); right, the throat's cavity volume; after the valve shuts with a 5 mL cavity in the throat. The valve sees the full Joukowsky rise of 14.8 bar at once. The wave reaches the venturi 33.3 ms later, and for the next 7.9 ms the upstream pipe hears nothing: its pressure stays at 5 bar while the cavity is squeezed. When the cavity closes at 41.3 ms the surge passes into the upstream pipe at 13.8 bar above its steady pressure.

A choked throat buys time, not silence

A venturi whose throat has reached vapour pressure passes a flow the downstream pressure cannot change, and it is tempting to read that as isolation: whatever happens downstream, the upstream pipe will not hear it. Slam a valve downstream and it hears it. The cavity at the throat holds the surge back only for as long as it takes to fill, and then lets 93 per cent of it through.

The spot a local theory cannot see

Newtonian theory gives every panel of a hypersonic vehicle a pressure set by its own angle to the stream, and no panel more than the stagnation pressure behind a normal shock. Let a shock from one part cross the bow shock of another and a supersonic jet forms that reaches the surface through weaker shocks. At Mach 8 it stagnates at 8.6 times the ceiling — and the worst amplification at every Mach number is close to the Mach number itself.

The part of a field 4 cameras cannot see. Middle, a field with no symmetry on a 16 × 16 grid. Left, the part of it that projects to exactly nothing in every one of 4 views, shaded one way above zero and the other below: a pattern of streaks and hollows that cancels along every ray. Right, the field with that part taken away. The middle and right fields give identical pictures in all 4 views, to 2e-13 of the largest ray, and no reconstruction from those views can tell them apart. The invisible part is one combination of 177 independent patterns the views cannot see.

Four cameras and a field they cannot see

An axisymmetric flow can be rebuilt from one photograph because its symmetry supplies every other view. A flow without an axis has to be photographed from several directions, and a few directions do not merely give a noisy answer — they leave whole patterns of density that every camera records as nothing. Four views of a 16 × 16 field see 79 of its 256 independent patterns and are exactly blind to the rest.

A length you can only measure by squeezing

No slip is a boundary condition rather than a law, and nothing in the equations requires it. The evidence that it is right for an ordinary liquid to within a nanometre comes from the one experiment whose small length is chosen rather than given — a squeeze film closed to tens of nanometres.

Three dies, one melt, three flow curves. The apparent flow curve a capillary rheometer reports, for three dies whose radii differ by a factor of four. A material property cannot depend on the instrument, so the fact that these three do not lie on one another is a measurement of something other than a viscosity. The single curve drawn beneath them is what the same melt gives with the wall condition set to no slip.

The wall a melt really does slip on

For a simple liquid the slip length is under two nanometres, which is why no-slip is safe everywhere. For an entangled polymer melt it is a millimetre, which is larger than the die it is being pushed through — so the melt moves as a plug and the viscosity a rheometer reports is a property of the instrument.

The water a submerged circle carries depends on how fast it is shaken. The added mass of a horizontal circular cylinder heaving under deep water, as a multiple of ρπa², against the wavenumber of the waves its frequency makes, Ka = ω²a/g, for five depths of its centre, with the depth set drawn dark: 1.1 radii, least added mass -0.182. Slowly shaken, every depth borrows more than its free-space mass; quickly shaken, less. Between, each curve rises to a peak and then falls through a trough, and for the shallowest circle the trough goes below zero — to -0.182 at Ka = 0.76.

The borrowed mass that goes negative

A body's added mass is taught as the water it carries with it, fixed by its shape. Put the body under a surface that can make waves and the amount depends on how fast it is shaken, runs from a wall's value to a free boundary's and past both, and for a circle close enough to the surface falls below zero.

One rim, one drop, every angle in the band. Water on a disc the size of a US cent, 19.1 mm across, pinned at its rim. The faint outlines are the drop at apparent angles of 60°, 90°, 120° and 150°; the dark one is the drop at the angle set, 120°, holding 1.13 mL. The rim stays put while the angle climbs, and every shape is an equilibrium: 0.52 mL at 60°, 1.44 mL at 150°. They are flattened by gravity into puddles with rounded edges, not spherical caps.

An edge holds any angle it is given

A liquid's contact angle is taught as a property of the liquid and the solid. On a smooth face it is. On a sharp edge the line stops, the angle is free to take any value in a band as wide as the edge is sharp, and that freedom is how a coin carries a dome of water and a glass stands full above its brim.

The Earth turns a straight river into a very gentle bend. The transverse circulation through the depth of a straight river running at 1.2 m/s at latitude 50°N, in thousandths of the main flow, against height above the bed — and the circulation of the same river without rotation but bent to the left with a radius of 2V/f, 21 kilometres. The two nearly coincide: the Earth's rotation pushes the fast surface water right and the slow bed water left, exactly as a bend does, and for a river it is a bend of about twenty kilometres' radius everywhere at once.

The Earth bends every river a little

In 1860 Karl Ernst von Baer claimed that the Earth's rotation makes rivers in the northern hemisphere cut into their right banks. The Coriolis force on a river does drive a helix that throws surface water towards the right bank, the same helix a bend drives. For a mountain stream it is a ten-thousandth of what the stream's own bends do. For the great slow rivers of the far north it is a fifth to two-fifths, and there Baer's claim is not absurd.

Where a carburettor's cold comes from. The temperature changes in a carburettor's throat, in kelvin: the cooling of the air as it expands to a hundred metres a second, the far smaller cooling of the metal it flows over, the cooling as petrol evaporates into it, and the warming as the water in humid air condenses back out. The fuel does five times what the venturi does to the air and fifty times what it does to the metal.

Carburettor ice is made by the fuel, not the venturi

Pilots are taught that a carburettor ices because air cools as it expands through the venturi. The expansion does cool the air, by five kelvin at a hundred metres a second, but the metal the ice grows on barely feels it. The cold comes from the petrol evaporating, and whether it makes ice is decided by the water in the air, which warms the mixture as it condenses. The worst day is not a cold one.

A fuel-wetted plate sits far below the stream that cools it. The temperature of a throttle plate wetted by petrol, against the day's temperature at 80 per cent humidity, beside the temperature of the stream flowing over it — the mixture after half the fuel has evaporated into it, at the plate's recovery temperature. A plate kept wet with fresh fuel sits nine to twenty-three kelvin below the stream, more on warmer days, and below freezing on any day up to about 34 °C. A plate whose film has lost its light ends sits one to six kelvin below it. The dashed line is freezing.

The throttle plate is a wet bulb for petrol

A carburettor's icing is usually worked out for the mixture — the fuel's latent heat spread through all the air — and that puts the warmest icing day near 15 °C, well short of the 30 °C the charts pilots use allow for. The ice does not grow in the mixture. It grows on the throttle plate, and a plate wet with evaporating petrol is a wet-bulb thermometer for fuel: nine to twenty-three kelvin colder than the stream flowing over it. Kept wet with fresh fuel it ices on a 30 °C day at full humidity and a 40 °C day at half — which is what the training handbook warns of. Once its light ends have gone it does not, and that difference is most of the story.

A hydrofoil loses lift at speed and gains it slowly, with a dip between. The lift of a flat hydrofoil beneath the surface over its value in deep water, against the chord Froude number U/√(gc) on a logarithmic axis, at depths of half a chord, one chord and two. Slow, the surface is a lid and the foil gains lift, as a wing over the ground does. Fast, the surface is a pressure-release boundary and the foil loses it. Between the two it does not simply pass from one to the other: the lift dips well below its fast value where the foil's waves are longest compared with its depth, and then rises through the lid value before settling back on it.

A hydrofoil loses most lift on the way up

A wing near the ground gains lift, and a hydrofoil near the surface is often described as the same thing upside down. At low speed it is: the surface acts as a lid and the foil gains lift. At high speed the surface is a boundary that cannot hold a pressure, and the foil loses lift instead. But the lift does not pass smoothly from one to the other. Between them, where the foil's waves are a few depths long, it falls well below both — to 43 per cent of its deep-water value half a chord down — and a foil boat meets that speed in the middle of its take-off run.

A slip law implies a slip length that changes with the rate. The slip length — slip velocity over the true wall shear rate — against the wall shear rate, for a melt whose slip follows a velocity law in stress with exponent 1.5, 2 or 3, all matched to slip at 2 mm/s at a stress of 100 kPa, and for a melt with a constant slip length, dashed. With the exponent of 2 the implied length falls from 0.22 mm to 0.08 mm across the range of rates; only a law whose exponent is exactly 1/n, 2.5 here, implies a constant length.

A melt's slip length has an exponent it cannot choose

A polymer melt slips at the wall, and there are two ways to say by how much: a slip length, fixed, so the slip velocity follows the wall's shear rate; or a slip law, the slip velocity as a power of the wall's stress. The literature moves between them as though they were the same, and for a melt they are not. A constant slip length forces the slip law's exponent to be exactly one over the melt's flow index — 2.5 for a typical melt — so a measured exponent of 2 is a slip length that changes with the rate. And temperature separates them outright: a tenfold change in viscosity moves the slip velocity tenfold under one description and three-hundredfold under the other.

The largest nucleus decides how tall a siphon can be. The tallest crown a siphon of degassed water can run over, above the upper reservoir's surface, against the radius of the largest gas nucleus the water carries, for outlets 0.2, 1 and 3 m below the upper reservoir. Nuclei of ten microns and more leave the ordinary limit of about ten metres, where the crown reaches the vapour pressure. A largest nucleus of one micron lets a slow siphon stand 14.4 m tall; of three-tenths of a micron, 27.3 m. The water's own strength is never the limit: its dirt is.

A degassed siphon is as tall as its largest nucleus allows

The textbook says a siphon cannot lift water more than about ten metres, because above that the pressure at its crown would fall below zero. Water can hold a pressure below zero — a tension — and siphons of degassed water have run over crowns taller than the barometric height. How much taller is not set by the water's strength, which is enormous, but by the largest speck of gas it carries. A nucleus of a micron lets a slow siphon stand fourteen metres tall; three-tenths of a micron, twenty-seven. And the flow's own speed takes metres off every limit.

A river drifts right, and only a reach can show it

Add the Earth's rotation to the law by which a meandering river migrates and it changes nothing about the meanders: they grow and travel downstream exactly as before. It adds one thing, a steady sideways drift of the whole river towards its right bank, at the bend migration rate times the Earth's share of the helix — four-tenths of a width a century on the lower Ob. No single bend can show it, because each bend moves several times further on its own. A survey of about ten to twenty bends can.

$An edge is worth its sharpness against the capillary length. The extra height a rounded edge holds over a flat plate, as a fraction of what a sharp edge holds, against the rounding radius in capillary lengths, for Young angles of 30°, 60° and 90°. An edge rounded to a thirtieth of a capillary length, about a tenth of a millimetre for water, keeps about ninety-five per cent. One rounded to a third of a millimetre keeps between eight and nine tenths; one rounded to a whole capillary length, about a third; and past that the worth falls as the inverse of the radius.$

A rounded edge spills before its line goes round

Gibbs's band says a sharp edge lets a liquid stand at any angle across a range as wide as the edge's turn. No real edge is sharp, and on a rounded one the line does not stop; it slides round the curve, meeting it at the Young angle everywhere. The band survives the sliding. What the rounding costs is height, because the line drops as it goes round, and past a point the drop outweighs the steeper angle and the liquid spills before the line has reached the far face. An edge is worth its sharpness measured against the capillary length, and nothing smaller.

Dissolved gas takes height from the largest nuclei first. The tallest crown a siphon runs over, against the radius of its largest nucleus at the reservoir, when a nucleus at the crown must neither break the water at once nor grow to break it by diffusion, for water at 0, 10, 30, 60 and 100 per cent of saturation. Fully degassed water gives the static limit. For a one-micron nucleus, gas below about a fifth of saturation changes nothing — 14.41 m against 14.41 — and saturated water brings it to 10.7 m. A five-micron nucleus in saturated water breaks the siphon at 2.4 m.

A crown dissolves its nuclei or breaks on them, and fast

A siphon of degassed water runs until its crown's tension reaches the breaking threshold of its largest nucleus. A nucleus lodged at the crown does not stay the size it arrived: it gains or loses gas by diffusion, and across a micron diffusion takes milliseconds, so the crown gives its verdict almost at once. Every stable nucleus loses gas unless the water holds more than half the crown's tension, and past a knee in gas content, dissolved air takes height from a siphon's crown that no amount of further degassing gives back.

A layer read as slip gives a slip length that drifts. The slip length a drainage measurement would fit at each gap to the force of a 1-nanometre viscous layer, using the slip formula, for layers three and ten times as viscous and immobile. Far off it is the first-order value, −0.667 nm for κ = 3; closer, it shrinks towards zero — −0.597 nm at 10 nm and −0.525 at 5. A slip length that depends on the gap is the layer's signature, and the only one a drainage curve carries.

A viscous nanometre reads as slip until the gap is ten of it

A drainage experiment turns a molecular length at a wall into a measurable force, and reports it as a slip length. A layer of liquid a nanometre thick and several times as viscous as the bulk changes the same force by the same amount, to first order. Solved with the stratified viscosity, the two pictures part by a per cent only when the gap is eleven to seventeen layers wide, and the part of the difference a measurement can see is a slip length that drifts with the gap. A layer that does not move at all is exactly a wall in a different place.

Four views, four guesses at what they missed. The earlier essay's field — two puffs and an oblique streak — and its reconstructions from the same four views, each choosing the part of the field the views cannot see by a different assumption. With none it is set to zero: an error of 42.8 per cent. The smoothest field the views allow: 39.8. A non-negative field: 24.7. A sum of Gaussian puffs of one width: 37.6. The first three meet every one of the 96 rays; the dictionary's does not.

A prior the pictures can refute is the one worth having

A few views of a flow with no symmetry leave most of the field unseen, and a reconstruction has to fill that part in by assuming something. Three common assumptions were tried on the same field and the same views. Non-negativity saves three views of ten, and five on a field of puffs; smoothness saves one; a dictionary of known shapes saves none unless it is exactly right, and when it is nearly right it can be wrong by a factor of a hundred. The prior that helps most is also the one the data can catch being wrong.

Elasticity adds a spring at first order and a slip only at second. The damping's deficit, one minus the damping ratio, and the in-phase force against Λ on logarithmic axes. The in-phase force rises in proportion to Λ — a fitted slope of 1.0000 — and the damping's deficit as its square, 2.0000. A slip length changes the damping at first order and adds no spring at all, so a soft wall and a slipping one are distinct in kind: the soft wall announces itself first in the phase of the force.

A soft wall is read as slip only at second order

A drainage force smaller than Taylor's has been read as the liquid slipping at the wall. A wall that gives under the drainage pressure lowers the force too, and it can be mistaken for slip. Solved together, the flow and the elastic wall say how: the softness first adds a spring to the force, in phase with the motion, and only at second order takes anything from the damping a slip length is read from. When it does, the slip it imitates grows as the square of the frequency and falls as the square of the gap.

The pocket escapes at the least pressure its states can stand. The liquid pressure each equilibrium of the pocket needs, against the pocket's volume, for a crevice with a one-micrometre mouth in a wall the water wets at 40° and one it does not, at 110°. As the crown's pressure falls the pocket follows its curve to the right: the rim slides out of the cone, pins at the mouth, and the meniscus bulges into a cap. The curve's minimum is the escape threshold — -106 kPa for the wetting wall and -138 kPa for the non-wetting one — and below it no state exists: the pocket becomes a cavity.

A crevice keeps the nucleus a free bubble loses

A free bubble at a siphon's crown dissolves in milliseconds, so it cannot be what breaks a siphon that has run for an hour. A pocket of gas in a crack of the hose wall can be, because its meniscus is curved by the wall and need not dissolve. Followed through its equilibria, the pocket escapes at a tension set almost entirely by the crack's mouth. What the wall's wettability decides is slower and more consequential: whether the crack fills, or keeps drawing gas in until the siphon breaks.

$The waves a wing makes on the sea cost it almost nothing. The wave drag of a wing skimming deep water, as a fraction of its lift, against speed, at heights of half a metre, one and two. Each curve peaks at the speed √(2gh) — 4.43 m/s at one metre, whatever the chord — and there the wave drag is 4.4·10⁻⁴ of the lift, the density ratio of air to water times Cₗ c/4eh. At a cruise of 50 m/s it is 9.31·10⁻⁶ of the lift.$

A wing over the sea barely touches it

A wing skimming the water presses its whole weight onto the surface beneath it, spread over a width about its own height. The sea is a deformable ground, and one might expect it to give way: a trough under the wing, waves behind, a drag to pay. It barely notices. Air is eight hundred times lighter than water, and that one ratio sets the dent at millimetres, the waves at a few millimetres high, and the wave drag at less than a two-thousandth of the lift even at the worst speed.

The parcel over the top arrives first, and never waits for the other. Two parcels released together far upstream, a whisker above and below the streamline that divides at the nose of a Joukowski section 11.8% thick at 4°. Both crawl past the nose; then the upper one is carried over the top faster and reaches the far line 1.13 time units ahead — 0.279 chord-transit times — against the 1.59 that the circulation divided by the speed squared predicts. Behind the section they travel on side by side at the stream's speed and the gap between them never closes.

The upper parcel leads by the circulation

Transit time looked like a quantity that could not be measured: a parcel released near the dividing streamline crawls past the nose for as long as one likes. The difference between two parcels' transit times, one either side of that streamline, does not crawl. It converges, and on a thin section it is the circulation divided by the square of the speed — the lift, measured in seconds. The upper parcel arrives first by that much, and behind the wing the two never close the gap.

Inside the layer the upper parcel's lead grows with depth. The transit lag, lower parcel minus upper, of parcels held at a quarter, a half and three-quarters of the boundary layer's thickness and just outside it, timed from either side of the attachment point to each chordwise station, on a thin cambered section at zero incidence, up to the upper layer's laminar separation at 62% chord. At mid-chord the lag outside the layer is 0.183 chord-over-speed units; at three-quarters of the thickness 0.195, at half 0.281 and at a quarter 0.695.

Inside the layer the upper parcel leads by more

Two parcels parting at a wing's attachment point arrive at different times, and outside the boundary layer the difference is the circulation over the speed squared. Inside the layer one might expect the slow, sticky fluid to wash the difference out. It does the opposite: deep in the layer the upper parcel's lead is several times the inviscid one, because the suction side's layer is fuller than the pressure side's. Only the layer's outer quarter reads the inviscid lead, and on the suction side the laminar layer gives out before the trailing edge.

Behind a finite wing the wake face keeps its share

Draw a box round a two-dimensional section and the face behind it carries almost none of the lift, so "the air is thrown down" keeps the wrong term. A finite wing is different. Its trailing vortices carry downward momentum through the face behind it however far back the face is. The share is set by the face's own shape — all of the weight through a tall face, half through a square one, none through a wide one — and the only things a box cannot change are the total and the induced drag.

In stable air a wide-body's wake sinks a few hundred metres and stops tens of kilometres behind it. The depth the trailing vortex pair of a wide-body airliner has sunk, against distance behind the aeroplane, for buoyancy frequencies of 0.005, 0.01 and 0.02 per second and in neutral air: weight 3 MN, span 60 m, 250 m/s, air density 0.4 kg/m³, so the pair starts down at 2.15 m/s. It stops 638, 319 and 160 m down, 117, 58.3 and 29.2 km behind; in neutral air it would go on sinking.

Stable air takes back the momentum a wing pushes down

Behind a wing in neutral air the trailing vortices carry the downward momentum the wing gave the air for ever, and a face across the wake keeps its share of the weight however far back it is drawn. In stably stratified air the column the pair carries down is lighter than the air around it, and buoyancy pushes back. The pair stops a few hundred metres down, its momentum returned, after a time that is the same for every aeroplane — 2.33 divided by the buoyancy frequency, about four minutes — and from there on the whole weight crosses the box's upper and lower faces as pressure.

Over a swell the wing's lift swings further above its calm value than below it. The wing's lift coefficient through one encounter with a 50 m swell, heading into it at 50 m/s, for swells of amplitude 0.25, 0.5 and 0.7 m, with the calm sea's value. Phase zero is a crest under the leading edge. At 0.25 m it runs from 0.6 to 0.803, averaging 0.694. At 0.5 m it runs from 0.534 to 1, averaging 0.729. At 0.7 m it runs from 0.489 to 1.34, averaging 0.795. Calm, it is 0.684. One encounter takes 0.85 s.

A swell lifts a ground-effect wing more at its crests than it takes in its troughs

A wing skimming the sea gains its lift from the sea's reflection of it, and the reflection grows sharply as the gap closes. Over a swell the gap opens and closes with every wave, so the lift swings — further up at each crest than down at each trough, which raises the mean lift as well as shaking it. Climbing out of the swing is possible, but the height that calms the lift spends the cushion the craft was built for, and in a sea about two metres high it has spent nearly all of it.

A quarter of the way into the layer, the lag follows the transitions along the chord. The transit lag a quarter of the way into the layer, as a multiple of the lag outside it, against chordwise station, at 0° and 4° on the thin cambered section at a chord Reynolds number of a million, with each surface's transition marked. At 0° the upper layer turns at 51% and the lower at 35%; the lag is −0.122 times the outside value at mid-chord and 0.61 at 95%. At 4° the upper layer turns at 11% and the lower not at all before the trailing edge; the lag is 2.91 times the outside value at mid-chord and 3.51 at 95%.

The side that turns turbulent first decides who arrives first near the wall

Inside a laminar layer the upper parcel's lead over the lower grows with depth. Real wings are not laminar to the trailing edge: one surface's layer turns turbulent first, and a turbulent layer is full almost to the wall. At the incidences a wing flies at, the upper side goes first and the exaggerated lead survives to the trailing edge, smaller than the laminar one and shrinking with the Reynolds number. Below about one degree the lower side goes first, and a tenth of the way into the layer the lower parcel arrives first.

Free in heave, the craft is an oscillator whose spring is its own cushion: it follows long swells and flies level over short ones. The craft's heave over the swell's amplitude against the encounter frequency over its own natural frequency, 2.07 rad/s with 0.69 of critical damping, for swells 30 to 800 m long; the curve is a linear oscillator driven through its spring with that damping. 30 m: 0.042 at 5.76; 50 m: 0.0972 at 3.58; 200 m: 0.723 at 1.03; 800 m: 1 at 0.324.

Free to rise and fall, a ground-effect craft rides its own cushion over the swell

A wing held still over a swell sees its gap change and its lift swing with it. A real ground-effect craft is not held: its weight sits on that lift, and ground effect, whose lift rises as the gap closes, gives it a height stiffness — a spring made of its own cushion — while its vertical speed changes its angle of attack and damps it. Free in heave it is an oscillator driven through that spring. Over long swells it follows the sea and keeps twice the held wing's clearance; over short ones it flies level and rides a dozen centimetres higher, because the cushion's swing is convex; and it comes closest to the crests over the swells it meets near its own natural frequency, never as close as the held wing does.

Followed rather than held, the parcels near a wing nearly tie

Parcels held at a fixed fraction of a boundary layer's thickness made the side that turns turbulent first decide which arrives first near the wall, and at a wing's ordinary incidence they gave the upper parcel a lead ten times the one outside the layer. Real smoke is not held at a depth: it follows a streamline. Near the attachment point the layer is thinner than any filament's height, so every filament starts outside it and is swallowed later, and on the upper surface, whose turbulent layer grows faster, it is swallowed deeper. Followed this way, the deep parcels at 4° arrive nearly together, and at a Reynolds number of a million the lower one can come first.

A mica sheet shields the glue's false slip only where the pressed region is narrower than the sheet bends. The slip length, in nanometres, that a dynamic drainage measurement at 100 Hz would read from a wall that does not slip, against the gap: a 3 mm sphere in water over bare glue of plane-strain modulus 1 GPa, and over mica sheets 1, 3 and 5 µm thick on the same glue. At 3 nm the bare glue reads 9.48 nm and the sheets 8.75, 2.68 and 1.06; at 30 nm, 0.1 against 0.099, 0.067 and 0.043.

A mica sheet hides its glue only at the smallest gaps, and changes how the false slip falls

A drainage measurement against a soft wall reads a slip that is not there, falling as the square of the gap. The wall in a surface-force apparatus is not a soft half-space but a stiff mica sheet on a soft glue, and the sheet spreads the drainage pressure over its own bending length before the glue feels it. Where the pressed region is wider than that length the sheet changes nothing; where it is narrower the sheet sinks as one piece, a spring in series with the liquid. That cuts the false slip only by the square of the bending length over the pressed width — threefold at three nanometres for three micrometres of mica — and it turns the slip's fall with the gap from the inverse square towards the inverse, which is the test an experimenter would have used to see it.

A prior chosen from noisy pictures keeps most of its gain, and a wrong one loses its alibi

With exact rays, a reconstruction's prior could be judged by its error, and a constraint that was wrong gave itself away by missing its own rays. With noise every prior needs a weight — how far to trust the rays against the assumption — and the weight has to be chosen without the answer. Chosen where the misfit falls to the noise, it costs the smooth and unassuming priors almost nothing and non-negativity two or three views, so the ranking survives. What does not survive is the refutation: a dictionary that misses a field's rays by four per cent is caught at three per cent noise and invisible at seven, where it fits the noise as well as any prior and is about as accurate as they are.

An oval that sheds its fluid is braked less, so the pair sinks further and stops later, until it sheds too fast to stop at all. The depth of a trailing vortex pair below its starting level, in spacings, against time in spacings over its initial speed, in air of N = 0.22: Saffman's oval, which keeps its fluid, and one detraining with α = 0.05. Saffman's stops at depth 6.75 after 10.6; this one at 6.93 after 12.4.

A wake that sheds its fluid sinks further, and past a point does not stop

In stable air the pair of trailing vortices behind a wing carries a column of lighter air down with it, and buoyancy pushes the column back until the pair has given up its momentum and stops. That picture keeps every parcel of the column. A real pair sheds the light air as it sinks, and shedding does two things at once: it takes away part of the momentum the buoyancy had to return, and it takes away the buoyancy that was returning it. The second wins. A pair that sheds a little stops later and deeper; one that sheds faster than a threshold loses its column before buoyancy can stop it. The shed air keeps a quarter of the momentum swinging up and down behind the aeroplane.

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