On Unlimited Growth

Many of you follow my eclectic blog posts hoping that one of them might appeal to you.  They span a broad range from personal to professional, craft to art, simplistic to technical, worldly to cosmic.  I sometimes offer my opinions and back them up with data.  In today’s data-challenged world (not from a dearth of data, but rather the challenges from those who don’t like the data), it is hard to make a compelling argument.

Nevertheless, I recently embarked on exploring a topic that has always bothered me:  the idea that we can solve our problems by economic growth.  I can see how it can solve certain short term problems, like borrowing money to pay back interest on prior loans, but it didn’t seem like a viable long term strategy.  We live on a finite planet and so eventually we would end up against practical physical limitations, right?

It is obvious to a physicist, but seemingly not to many others.

Over the last month, while staying warm in our natural gas-heated home, I looked into the future of fossil fuels and their impact on our global economy.  I crafted three essays which are more technical than many of my posts, and may not be of interest to many of my followers.  So don’t feel compelled to digest them.  

But if you are curious, here are brief descriptions, with links.

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Cloud Chamber Update

I still don’t have a reliable setup, but some recent changes I made to my cloud chamber have resulted in this very satisfying display of subatomic contrails.  Here are a couple of recordings.  The first documents when I was stunned to see multiple concurrent trails and I called for Poldi to witness it.

“Hey Poldi!” (expand to see what we were excited about).

The second video is a sustained view for several minutes, placed to background music, to mesmerize those of us who are susceptible. Think about it. This is a visual representation of the radiation that is all around us! Expand to full screen for best effect.

If you’d like to read about how I got here, the previous post describes the project of building the cloud chamber.


Cloud Chambers and Balloons

A view looking directly down in my cloud chamber showing a fragment of uranium glass.  A small white streak pointing to 11:00 appears above it, which is a track of some subatomic particle, possibly an alpha particle from a radioactive decay within the glass. (Click to enlarge).

Years ago, after watching some YouTube videos on making cloud chambers, I tried my hand.  A cloud chamber is one of the earliest techniques to see the paths of subatomic particles.  It turns out that there is a natural background radiation of them and I wanted to see if I could watch these particles as they whizz around us.  It seemed like a cool experiment.

The analogy I like to use is of a high altitude jet leaving a condensation trail behind it.  You can see the contrail, but not the jet making it.  In a cloud chamber, similar condensation physics is at work, but instead of engine exhaust, it is the particle’s ionization of gas molecules that triggers the condensation.  The original Wilson cloud chambers used water vapor; modern chambers use alcohol, which is more easily managed.

My attempt to make one was less than satisfying.  I recall staring at the mist at the bottom of the container and imagining that I was seeing patterns of droplets. Maybe I did, but it was not the thrilling experience of seeing the invisible that I was hoping for.  I put the project aside.  Until recently.

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The Universe in 3D

I always had a mild interest in astronomy, and it became a strong interest in the 1990s, triggered by a homework assignment given to my ten-year-old son to go out at night and identify some constellations.  I took him away from the city lights to a park where we could see the stars emerge from twilight.  On that beautiful fall evening, we found the constellations he was looking for, and we also saw Jupiter, the brightest object in the sky.  Through binoculars, we were surprised that we could see its moons.  This caused me to wonder what else I might be able to see if I were to look a little closer.

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A New Host for Thor’s Life Notes

I started this blog when I retired in 2019, just before COVID.  It was an activity that occupied me during those months of quarantine and allowed me to share my interests and projects.  I was, and still am, ignorant of blogging technology.  Yes, I have, in my career, written code for the world of web pages and browser-based applications, but every time I did so, I wondered, “How could this ever work?”  It struck me as a house of cards, with fragile links and unreliable and inconsistent page renderings.  

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The Twins Paradox – a lifelong puzzle

When I was studying physics in college, one of the early subjects was Einstein’s special relativity theory.  The subject is called “relativity” because it explains the physics of objects moving relative to each other.  It is “special” because it only applies to uniform relative motion, not motion induced by gravity, which is covered by “general” relativity, which Einstein described a decade later.

Special relativity replaced Galileo’s and Isaac Newton’s earlier theories, which were superb at explaining falling objects and orbiting planets, but had run into trouble explaining the properties of fast-moving electrons and light.

It is an early subject in the physics curriculum because as students, we were just learning the techniques of calculus and linear algebra; techniques that are helpful, but not required to understand special relativity.  Most people are familiar with special relativity, and even if they don’t understand the details, they have heard “E=mc2”, one of the consequences of it.  They may also have heard about time dilation, the effect of a moving clock slowing down relative to a stationary one.

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Franconia Aurora

The moon sets behind an outdoor sculpture while auroras light the sky at Franconia Sculpture Park.

Even if light pollution were not an issue, we’d rarely see the northern lights because our latitude in Minneapolis is outside the normal auroral oval.  But last week, Earth experienced a strong geomagnetic storm and we were suddenly in the middle of it!  Here was a chance to see aurora without traveling to Alaska or Manitoba! And it was the perfect opportunity to photograph them with my wide-angle lenses, one of which I call my “Milky Way/aurora lens”, a 2-1/2-pound monster for just this purpose! But we needed to get away from the city lights.

There is a sculpture park, Franconia, that Poldi and I have enjoyed and contributed to for many years, and it was less than an hour from home. We arrived before sunset and sought permission to take photos, even after the normal park closing time. As I was scouting for locations and setting up tripods, a trickle of other visitors arrived with the same purpose: to see the predicted northern lights. As twilight faded, the aurora tourists expanded to dozens of vehicles, all of which had headlights that swept across the sculpture park grounds, interfering with my carefully selected compositions.

I have learned not to react to unexpected lighting situations. Oftentimes, they make for interesting photographic results. One of my favorite examples is when I was shooting reflections on a calm alpine lake and a group of partiers arrived and went skinnydipping, breaking up the smooth lake surface. Rather than close the shutter and move on, I kept it open for the duration of my planned exposure. It created a wonderful blend of reflected and scattered light!

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Eclipse Party 2024– cloud coverup

Eclipse dress rehearsal in my back yard.

When I was first learning astrophotography, I had the bad luck of beginner’s luck. I got an early good result, a picture of the Andromeda Galaxy, and then spent years discovering all the things that can go wrong with this technical hobby.

The equipment has improved immensely since those days of making long duration, manually guided exposures onto film, but the opportunities for fatal mistakes has not seemed to diminish, and the challenges of solar imaging are no less demanding than those of deep sky imaging– just different.

So I knew that I needed to practice my plan to photograph the solar eclipse. There were too many things that all needed to go right, and too many opportunities to make a mistake.

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Eclipse Party 2024- eclipse day!

Our group consumes coffee! Five French presses were hard pressed to keep up.

Eclipse Monday arrived and we proceeded as planned.  Delicious French-pressed coffee and cinnamon rolls greeted our eclipse party guests, but the sky was covered in intermittent clouds, a mix of high and low layers, only occasionally offering a clear sunny view.  

This did not seem to affect the group.  They proceeded to continue their exploration of the campground and vicinity, logging birdcalls and trekking new hiking trails.

By the time the eclipse started, a little past noon, we all convened at our observing site.  Cabin H, it turns out, is the only cabin at Zuber’s that had a full view of Old Baldy, and it provided us with a perfect open area in front to view the eclipsed sun!

I had completed the setup of my cameras (more on this later).  In principle, they were automated enough that I could relax and enjoy the show with my friends.  I looked around and saw that our full group of black t-shirted eclipse observers had positioned their camp chairs to claim their personal view of the sky, making guesses about the sun’s location as it occasionally peeked through the clouds.  Some had binoculars, properly filtered of course, and their punched name cards were near at hand.

Over on top of Old Baldy we could see the silhouettes of many people who had climbed it– to get a closer look, I guess.  When they started striking odd poses and making wild gestures, I realized this was the gathering spot for the Wiccans and Druids.  And sure enough, whenever the clouds presented an opening that showed a partially eclipsed sun, they could be heard whooping and hollering at it!

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Eclipse Party 2024- pre-eclipse

At Zuber’s River Camp, with Old Baldy in the background.

The terms of the campground reservation required a three-day stay.  This was fine with us; it was a beautiful location, and we would be entirely avoiding the post-eclipse traffic jams.  So Saturday and Sunday and even Monday morning—eclipse day– were open to enjoy the scenery at our place in Texas Hill Country.

Our compound within the camp comprised “Cabin H” with power and plumbing, and three shelters (“7” “8”, and “9”), which were basically screened-in porches with an electrical outlet.  The shelters were surrounded by outdoor space to pitch a tent or park a camper.

Our fellow eclipse partiers gradually joined us on Saturday and Sunday.  They set up their camping arrangements (tents, campers, shelters, or cabin facilities) and then went exploring.

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