Learning science is one of the hardest things a person can do. It often forces us to shift the way in which we see the world. The process is demanding, but is ultimately rewarding, because it allows us to interact with nature in a deeper, more meaningful way. If we continue down this road, we become empowered with the means to shape our environment - we become engineers.
Friday, December 6, 2024
Escaping a Crazy Semester
Monday, July 22, 2024
'Orbital' has left me breathless and musing about weightlessness
The summer is half over, but the winner for my top read has already been determined. Orbital: A Novel, by Samantha Harvey, has enraptured me. It is a story about one day in the lives of a crew of six astronauts in low Earth orbit. We orbit with them, experience sixteen sunrises and sunsets, perform weightless tasks, but mostly, follow their inner monologues, which I would describe as meditations on nature and space.
The novel is a love letter to Earth and a prayer that we will learn to inhabit it with grace. Harvey describes the daytime view of Earth as "... the humanless simplicity of land and sea. The way the planet seems to breathe, an animal unto itself. It's the planet's indifferent turning in indifferent space and the perfection of the sphere which transcends all language."
Summer is a wonderful time to read this book. One thing I've always enjoyed about physics is how it opens up amazing conversations during late evening strolls, when the stars come out. At such times, with the Sun blocked out, we see the vastness beyond our atmosphere, and feel so very small. This sense of awe overcomes us. Orbital gives us this same feeling, but from a privileged vantage point some 400 km above our planet.
Many students have asked me if I would like to travel to space, and I tell them there's no point thinking about it because my wife wouldn't let me. The truth is that while I would love to see Earth with my own eyes from low Earth orbit, I do not think my body would enjoy the experience of weightlessness. Most amusement park rides are no-go zones for me now, which totally sucks, because they were a delight before I turned thirty.
It is not possible to experience weightlessness for a significant amount of time in our day-to-day lives, because along with Earth's gravitational force, we are always subjected to some other contact force (like the push of a chair onto our butt, say). An orbit is a perpetual state of falling; astronauts are falling along with the capsule they inhabit. The reason satellites don't fall down to Earth's surface is because they have a sufficient lateral speed (many km/s). A circular orbit maintains its constant speed because there is no atmosphere to slow it down, so round and round it goes.
Okay, quick tangent... Here's a fun little question that just came to me: Standing on the surface of the Moon, with its negligible atmosphere, how hard would I need to throw a rock for it to complete a full orbit and hit me in the back of my head? A quick application of Newton's second law leads to the result: v = sqrt(GM/R), where M and R are the Moon's mass and radius, respectively (G is the universal gravitational constant). Plugging values in, we get a speed of 1,680 m/s (over 6,000 km/h). I can't throw that fast, and in any case, would prefer not to get hit in the back of my head by a rock moving that fast.
Let's get back to the feeling of weightlessness. When you jump off of a diving board, you feel weightless from the moment your feet leave the board up until your body enters the water; a few brief seconds of weightlessness. I cannot fathom enduring that 'organs floating in the ether of my rib-cage' feeling for days, weeks, and even months, without a break, as astronauts do.
There really is no way to simulate weightlessness on Earth. Even skydiving does not replicate the sensation, because we quickly reach terminal velocity, where the upward drag force matches the downward weight force. Yes, we are falling, but we feel our weight. As far as your innards are concerned, it's like lying flat on your bed, only it is the air giving the steady upward push.
A compromise between the brevity of diving into a pool and, say, a 90-minute complete circling of Earth in a spacecraft, is a zero-g airplane, which cuts off its engine for about 22 seconds, during which its thrill-seeking passengers float around the cabin. It then repeats the parabolic maneuver many more times until someone pukes.
I guess I will have to be satisfied with musing about space. For this earthbound physics teacher, reading Orbital will have to suffice.
Wishing you a summer of blue skies and starry nights.
Saturday, April 6, 2024
Totally Stoked for Totality!
For readers far away from the path of totality for the upcoming solar eclipse, my apologies, but as a Montrealer, I will be getting one minute in the full shade of the sun on Monday, April 8. It is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I am excited to the point of losing sleep. It inspired me to write this extended piece in the Montreal Gazette: Totally Stoked About Totality.
Totality will occur at 3:27 p.m. for Montrealers. But as we are on the northern edge, it will be shorter than those along the middle of the path by a couple of minutes. Still, one moment would be sufficient to sear the event in my memory.
I was inspired to write the piece by a colleague of mine and my feeling that the average person is not as psyched as they ought to be. The one message I want to convey to anyone that has an easy opportunity to enter totality is this: DO IT! The worst case scenario is that this few minute commitment does not rock your world, but in all likelihood, it will be unforgettable, and more so if you experience it with loved ones.
*** Remember to protect your eyes. Wear eclipse viewing glasses whenever looking directly at the sun, with one exception: the brief minute of totality. You must remove them during the big moment or you'll miss it.