GPS satellite orbits

GPS satellites all orbit at the same altitude. According to the FAA,

GPS satellites fly in circular orbits at an altitude of 10,900 nautical miles (20,200 km) and with a period of 12 hours.

Why were these orbits chosen?

You can determine your position using satellites that are not in circular orbits, but with circular orbits all the satellites are on the surface of a sphere, and this insures that certain difficulties don’t occur [1]. More on that in the next post.

To maintain a circular orbit, the velocity is determined by the altitude, and this in turn determines the period. The period T is given by

T = 2\pi \sqrt{\frac{r^3}{\mu}}

where μ is the “standard gravitational parameter” for Earth, which equals the mass of the earth times the gravitational constant G.

The weakest link in calculating of T is r. The FAA site says the altitude is 20,200 km, but has that been rounded? Also, we need the distance to the center of the earth, not the altitude above the surface, so we need to add the radius of the earth. But the radius of the earth varies. Using the average radius of the earth I get T = 43,105 seconds.

Note that 12 hours is 43,200 seconds, so the period I calculated is 95 seconds short of 12 hours. Some of the difference is due to calculation inaccuracy, but most of it is real: the orbital period of GPS satellites is less than 12 hours. According to this source, the orbital period is almost precisely 11 hours 58 minutes.

The significance of 11 hours and 58 minutes is that it is half a sidereal day, not half a solar day. I wrote about the difference between a sidereal day and a solar day here. That means each GPS satellite returns to almost the same position twice a day, as seen from the perspective of an observer on the earth. GPS satellites are in a 2:1 resonance with the earth’s rotation.

(But doesn’t the earth rotate on its axis every 24 hours? No, every 23 hours 56 minutes. Those missing four minutes come from the fact that the earth has to rotate a bit more than one rotation on its axis to return to the same position relative to the sun. More on that here.)

[1] Mireille Boutin, Gregor Kemperc. Global positioning: The uniqueness question and a new solution method. Advances in Applied Mathematics 160 (2024)

Maybe Copernicus isn’t coming

Before Copernicus promoted the heliocentric model of the solar system, astronomers added epicycle on top of epicycle, creating ever more complex models of the solar system. The term epicycle is often used derisively to mean something ad hoc and unnecessarily complex.

Copernicus’ model was simpler, but it was less accurate. The increasingly complex models before Copernicus were refinements. They were not ad hoc, nor were they unnecessarily complex, if you must center your coordinate system on Earth.

It’s easy to draw the wrong conclusion from Copernicus, and from any number of other scientists who were able to greatly simplify a previous model. One could be led to believe that whenever something is too complicated, there must be a simpler approach. Sometimes there is, and sometimes there isn’t.

If there isn’t a simpler model, the time spent searching for one is wasted. If there is a simpler model, the time searching for one might still be wasted. Pursuing brute force progress might lead to a simpler model faster than pursuing a simpler model directly.

It all depends. Of course it’s wise to spend at least some time looking for a simple solution. But I think we’re fed too many stories in which the hero comes up with a simpler solution by stepping back from the problem.

Most progress comes from the kind of incremental grind that doesn’t make an inspiring story for children. And when there is a drastic simplification, that simplification usually comes after grinding on a problem, not instead of grinding on it.

3Blue1Brown touches on this in this video. The video follows two hypothetical problem solvers, Alice and Bob, who attack the same problem. Alice is the clever thinker and Bob is the calculating drudge. Alice’s solution of the original problem is certainly more elegant, and more likely to be taught in a classroom. But Bob’s approach generalizes in a way that Alice’s approach, as far as we know, does not.

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Why does FM sound better than AM?

The original form of radio broadcast was amplitude modulation (AM). With AM radio, the changes in the amplitude of the carrier wave carries the signal you want to broadcast.

AM signal

Frequency modulation (FM) came later. With FM radio, changes to the frequency of the carrier wave carry the signal.

I go into the mathematical details of AM radio here and of FM radio here.

Pinter [1] gives a clear explanation of why the inventor of FM radio, Edwin Howard Armstrong, correctly predicted that FM radio transmissions would be less affected by noise.

Armstrong reasoned that the effect of random noise is primarily to amplitude-modulate the carrier without consistently producing frequency derivations.

In other words, noise tends to be a an unwanted amplitude modulation, not a frequency modulation.

FM radio was able to achieve levels of noise reduction that people steeped in AM radio thought would be impossible. As J. R. Carson eloquently but incorrectly concluded

… as the essential nature of the problem is more clearly perceived, we are unavoidably forced to the conclusion that static, like the poor, will always be with us.

But as Pinter observes

The substantial reduction of noise in a FM receiver by use of a limiter was indeed a startling discovery, contrary to the behavior of AM systems, because experience with such systems had shown that the noise contribution to the modulation of the carrier could not be eliminated without partial elimination of the message.

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[1] Philip F. Pinter. Modulation, Noise, and Spectral Analysis. McGraw-Hill 1965.

Increasing speed due to friction

Orbital mechanics is fascinating. I’ve learned a bit about it for fun, not for profit. I seriously doubt Elon Musk will ever call asking me to design an orbit for him. [1]

One of the things that makes orbital mechanics interesting is that it can be counter-intuitive. For example, atmospheric friction can make a satellite move faster. How can this be? Doesn’t friction always slow things down?

Friction does reduce a satellite’s tangential velocity, causing it to move into a lower orbit, which increases its velocity. It’s weird to think about, but the details are worked out in [2].

Note the date on the article: May 1958. The paper was written in response to Sputnik 1 which launched in October 1957. Parkyn’s described the phenomenon of acceleration due to friction in general, and how it applied to Sputnik in particular.

Related posts

[1] I had a lead on a project with NASA once, but it wasn’t orbital mechanics, and the lead didn’t materialize.

[2] D. G. Parkyn. The Effect of Friction on Elliptic Orbits. The Mathematical Gazette. Vol. 42, No. 340 (May, 1958), pp. 96-98

Calculating when a planet will appear to move backwards

When we say that the planets in our solar system orbit the sun, not the earth, we mean that the motions of the planets is much simpler to describe from the vantage point of the sun. The sun is no more the center of the universe than the earth is. Describing the motion of the planets from the perspective of our planet is not wrong, but it is inconvenient. (For some purposes. It’s quite convenient for others.)

The word planet means “wanderer.” This because the planets appear to wander in the night sky. Unlike stars that appear to orbit the earth in a circle as the earth orbits the sun, planets appear to occasionally reverse course. When planets appear to move backward this is called retrograde motion.

Apparent motion of Venus

Here’s what the motion of Venus would look like over a period of 8 years as explored here.

Venus from Earth

Venus completes 13 orbits around the sun in the time it takes Earth to complete 8 orbits. The ratio isn’t exactly 13 to 8, but it’s very close. Five times over the course of eight years Venus will appear to reverse course for a few days. How many days? We will get to that shortly.

When we speak of the motion of the planets through the night sky, we’re not talking about their rising and setting each day due to the rotation of the earth on its axis. We’re talking about their motion from night to night. The image above is how an observer far above the Earth and not rotating with the Earth would see the position of Venus over the course of eight years.

The orbit of Venus as seen from earth is beautiful but complicated. From the Copernican perspective, the orbits of Earth and Venus are simply concentric circles. You may bristle at my saying planets have circular rather than elliptical orbits [1]. The orbits are not exactly circles, but are so close to circular that you cannot see the difference. For the purposes of this post, we’ll assume planets orbit the sun in circles.

Calculating retrograde periods

There is a surprisingly simple equation [2] for finding the points where a planet will appear to change course:

\cos(kt) = \frac{\sqrt{Rr}}{R + r - \sqrt{Rr}}

Here r is the radius of Earth’s orbit and R is the radius of the other planet’s orbit [3]. The constant k is the difference in angular velocities of the two planets. You can solve this equation for the times when the apparent motion changes.

Note that the equation is entirely symmetric in r and R. So Venusian observing Earth and an Earthling observing Venus would agree on the times when the apparent motions of the two planets reverse.

Example calculation

Let’s find when Venus enters and leaves retrograde motion. Here are the constants we need.

r = 1       # AU
R = 0.72332 # AU

venus_year = 224.70 # days
earth_year = 365.24 # days
k = 2*pi/venus_year - 2*pi/earth_year

c = sqrt(r*R) / (r + R - sqrt(r*R))

With these constants we can now plot cos(kt) and see when it equals c.

This shows there are five times over the course of eight years when Venus is in apparent retrograde motion.

If we set time t = 0 to be a time when Earth and Venus are aligned, we start in the middle of retrograde period. Venus enters prograde motion 21 days later, and the next retrograde period begins at day 563. So out of every 584 days, Venus spends 42 days in retrograde motion and 542 days in prograde motion.

Related posts

[1] Planets do not exactly orbit in circles. They don’t exactly orbit in ellipses either. Modeling orbits as ellipses is much more accurate than modeling orbits as circles, but not still not perfectly accurate.

[2] 100 Great Problems of Elementary Mathematics: Their History and Solution. By Heinrich Dörrie. Dover, 1965.

[3] There’s nothing unique about observing planets from Earth. Here “Earth” simply means the planet you’re viewing from.

What can JWST see?

The other day I ran across this photo of Saturn’s moon Titan taken by the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST).

If JWST can see Titan with this kind of resolution, how well could it see Pluto or other planets? In this post I’ll do some back-of-the-envelope calculations, only considering the apparent size of objects, ignoring other factors such as how bright an object is.

The apparent size of an object of radius r at a distance d is proportional to (r/d)². [1]

Of course the JWST isn’t located on Earth, but JWST is close to Earth relative to the distance to Titan.

Titan is about 1.4 × 1012 meters from here, and has a radius of about 2.6 × 106 m. Pluto is about 6 × 1012 m away, and has a radius of 1.2 × 106 m. So the apparent size of Pluto would be around 90 times smaller than the apparent size of Titan. Based on only the factors considered here, JWST could take a decent photo of Pluto, but it would be lower resolution than the photo of Titan above, and far lower resolution than the photos taken by New Horizons.

Could JWST photograph an exoplanet? There are two confirmed exoplanets are orbiting Proxima Centauri 4 × 1016 m away. The larger of these has a mass slightly larger than Earth, and presumably has a radius about equal to that of Earth, 6 × 106 m. Its apparent size would be 150 million times smaller than Titan.

So no, it would not be possible for JWST to photograph an expolanet.

 

[1] In case the apparent size calculation feels like a rabbit out of a hat, here’s a quick derivation. Imagine looking out on sphere of radius d. This sphere has area 4πd². A distant planet takes up πr² area on this sphere, 0.25(r/d)² of your total field of vision.

Earth : Jupiter :: Jupiter : Sun

The size of Jupiter is approximately the geometric mean of the sizes of Sun and Earth.

In terms of radii,

\frac{R_\Sun}{R_{\text{\Jupiter}}} \approx \frac{R_\Jupiter}{R_\Earth}

The ratio on the left equals 9.95 and the ratio on the left equals 10.98.

The subscripts are the astronomical symbols for the Sun (☉, U+2609), Jupiter (♃, U+2643), and Earth (, U+1F728). I produced them in LaTeX using the mathabx package and the commands \Sun, Jupiter, and Earth.

The mathabx symbol for Jupiter is a little unusual. It looks italicized, but that’s not because the symbol is being used in math mode. Notice that the vertical bar in the symbol for Earth is vertical, i.e. not italicized.

 

Gravity on Jupiter

NASA image of Jupiter

I was listening to the latest episode of the Space Rocket History podcast. The show includes some audio from a documentary on Pioneer 11 that mentioned that a man would weigh 500 pounds on Jupiter.

My immediate thought was “Is that all?! Is this ‘man’ a 100 pound boy?”

The documentary was correct and my intuition was wrong. And the implied mass of the man in the documentary is 190 pounds.

Jupiter has more than 300 times more mass than the earth. Why is its surface gravity only 2.6 times that of the earth?

Although Jupiter is very massive, it is also very large. Gravitational attraction is proportional to mass, but inversely proportional to the square of distance.

A satellite in orbit 100,000 km from the center of Jupiter would feel 300 times as much gravity as one in orbit the same distance from the center of Earth. But the surface of Jupiter is further from its center of mass than the surface of Earth is from its center of mass.

The mass of Jupiter is 318 times that of Earth, and the its mean radius is 11 times that of Earth. So the ratio of gravity on the surface of Jupiter to gravity on the Earth’s surface is

318 / 11² = 2.63

Now suppose a planet had the same density as Earth but a radius of r Earth radii. Then its mass would be r³ times greater, but its surface gravity would only be r times greater since gravity follows an inverse square law. So if Jupiter were made of the same stuff as Earth, its surface gravity would be 11 times greater. But Jupiter is a gas giant, so its surface gravity is only 2.6 times greater.

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How to Organize Technical Research?

 

64 million scientific papers have been published since 1996 [1].

Assuming you can actually find the information you want in the first place—how can you organize your findings to be able to recall and use them later?

It’s not a trifling question. Discoveries often come from uniting different obscure pieces of information in a new way, possibly from very disparate sources.

Many software tools are used today for notetaking and organizing information, including simple text files and folders, Evernote, GitHub, wikis, Miro, mymind, Synthical and Notion—to name a diverse few.

AI tools can help, though they can’t always recall correctly and get it right, and their ability to find connections between ideas is elementary. But they are getting better [2,3].

One perspective was presented by Jared O’Neal of Argonne National Laboratory, from the standpoint of laboratory notebooks used by teams of experimental scientists [4]. His experience was that as problems become more complex and larger, researchers must invent new tools and processes to cope with the complexity—thus “reinventing the lab notebook.”

While acknowledging the value of paper notebooks, he found electronic methods essential because of distributed teammates. In his view many streams of notes are probably necessary, using tools such as GitLab and Jupyter notebooks. Crucial is the actual discipline and methodology of notetaking, for example a hierarchical organization of notes (separating high-level overview and low-level details) that are carefully written to be understandable to others.

A totally different case is the research methodology of 19th century scientist Michael Faraday. He is not to be taken lightly, being called by some “the best experimentalist in the history of science” (and so, perhaps, even compared to today) [5].

A fascinating paper [6] documents Faraday’s development of “a highly structured set of retrieval strategies as dynamic aids during his scientific research.” He recorded a staggering 30,000 experiments over his lifetime. He used 12 different kinds of record-keeping media, including lab notebooks proper, idea books, loose slips, retrieval sheets and work sheets. Often he would combine ideas from different slips of paper to organize his discoveries. Notably, his process to some degree varied over his lifetime.

Certain motifs emerge from these examples: the value of well-organized notes as memory aids; the need to thoughtfully innovate one’s notetaking methods to find what works best; the freedom to use multiple media, not restricted to a single notetaking tool or format.

Do you have a favorite method for organizing your research? If so, please share in the comments below.

References

[1] How Many Journal Articles Have Been Published? https://publishingstate.com/how-many-journal-articles-have-been-published/2023/

[2] “Multimodal prompting with a 44-minute movie | Gemini 1.5 Pro Demo,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa0MT8OwHuk

[3] Geoffrey Hinton, “CBMM10 Panel: Research on Intelligence in the Age of AI,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg-w_n9NJIE&t=4706s

[4] Jared O’Neal, “Lab Notebooks For Computational Mathematics, Sciences, Engineering: One Ex-experimentalist’s Perspective,” Dec. 14, 2022, https://www.exascaleproject.org/event/labnotebooks/

[5] “Michael Faraday,” https://dlab.epfl.ch/wikispeedia/wpcd/wp/m/Michael_Faraday.htm

[6] Tweney, R.D. and Ayala, C.D., 2015. Memory and the construction of scientific meaning: Michael Faraday’s use of notebooks and records. Memory Studies8(4), pp.422-439. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Ryan-Tweney/publication/279216243_Memory_and_the_construction_of_scientific_meaning_Michael_Faraday’s_use_of_notebooks_and_records/links/5783aac708ae3f355b4a1ca5/Memory-and-the-construction-of-scientific-meaning-Michael-Faradays-use-of-notebooks-and-records.pdf

Constellations in Mathematica

Mathematica has data on stars and constellations. Here is Mathematica code to create a list of constellations, sorted by the declination (essentially latitude on the celestial sphere) of the brightest star in the constellation.

constellations = EntityList["Constellation"]
sorted = SortBy[constellations, -#["BrightStars"][[1]]["Declination"] &]

We can print the name of each constellation with

Map[#["Name"] &, sorted]

This yields

{"Ursa Minor", "Cepheus", "Cassiopeia", "Camelopardalis", 
…, "Hydrus", "Octans", "Apus"}

We can print the name of the constellation along with its brightest star as follows.

Scan[Print[#["Name"], ", " #["BrightStars"][[1]]["Name"]] &, sorted]

This prints

Ursa Minor, Polaris
Cepheus, Alderamin
Cassiopeia, Tsih
Camelopardalis, β Camelopardalis
…
Hydrus, β Hydri
Octans, ν Octantis
Apus, α Apodis

Mathematica can draw star charts for constellations, but when I tried

Entity["Constellation", "Orion"]["ConstellationGraphic"]

it produced extraneous text on top of the graphic.

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