Latent heat — where it appears
Named by 18 essays across 2 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The heat that changes no temperature, and where it actually goes
A kettle reaches a hundred degrees in a minute and takes five more to boil dry. The heat going in during those five minutes changes nothing a thermometer can see, and it is most of the energy in the whole process.
What a system actually minimises
A ball falls to the bottom of a bowl and a gas fills a room, and neither of those is the rule. A system in contact with a large reservoir minimises U − TS, and the minus sign is the reservoir's own entropy written in the system's variables — which is why a rubber band pulls harder when it is heated.
A boiling point is a pressure, not a temperature
Nothing about water names one hundred degrees; the air does. Where a liquid turns to vapour in its bulk is fixed by what pushes on it, which makes the familiar figure a coordinate on a curve — 71 °C on Everest, 119.5 °C in a sealed pot — and one latent heat draws the whole curve.
The engine that pays back more than it takes
Carnot's argument puts a ceiling on how much work a flow of heat can be made to do. Run the same cycle backwards and the ceiling inverts into a floor that is greater than one — so a machine can deliver three or four joules of heat for every joule it consumes, and a perfectly efficient electric heater is the worst way to warm a room.
The part of the curve no fluid follows
One equation for a real gas produces isotherms with a rising middle section, which says a substance would expand as the pressure on it grows. Nothing does that. What replaces it is a horizontal line whose height is fixed by making two areas equal, and the condition is not a convenience.
Why the triple point is a point
Three phases of one substance coexist at one temperature and one pressure and nowhere else, and the reason is arithmetic rather than chemistry: count the numbers that describe the state, count the conditions equilibrium imposes, and subtract. The same subtraction says four phases of one substance are impossible, and it says so without knowing what the substance is.
The melting curve that leans the wrong way
The slope of any coexistence line is the latent heat divided by the temperature and the change in volume. Latent heat is always positive, so the sign of the slope is the sign of the volume change — and for water the volume change is negative, which is the whole of why ice floats and why the melting curve leans backwards.
The boiling curve that turns back
Heat a surface under water and more heat flows from it the hotter it gets — up to a point. Past about twenty degrees above boiling the bubbles crowd together, merge, and begin to blanket the surface with vapour, and from then on a hotter surface passes less heat, not more, until by a few hundred degrees above boiling it is wrapped in an insulating film and passes fifty times less than it did at its best. Shigeo Nukiyama found the turn in 1934 by melting wires. It is why a water drop skates for a minute on a very hot pan but vanishes in two seconds on a merely hot one, and why every boiler, steam generator and water-cooled reactor is designed around a number called the critical heat flux.
The ice that grows more slowly the thicker it gets
A lake under air ten degrees below freezing grows eleven centimetres of ice on the first day and only another eighteen in the following six. The ice forms at its underside, and every gram of it releases latent heat that must be carried up through the ice already there before more can form: the ice is its own insulation. The thickness therefore grows as the square root of time, and the rule, Stefan's, depends on temperature and time only through their product — the freezing degree-days that lake-ice forecasters count. A few centimetres of snow on top slows it more than any amount of cold speeds it up.
The degree a spoonful of solute buys
Dissolve anything in water and the water freezes lower and boils higher. The two shifts come from one cause — the solute lowers the liquid water's chemical potential, so the liquid wins against ice and against vapour over a wider range — but they are not the same size. For every mole of particles per kilogram the freezing point falls 1.86 degrees and the boiling point rises only 0.51, three and a half times less, and the reason is in the entropies: ice and water are so alike that a small push moves their crossing a long way. The same arithmetic says salting pasta water does nothing a cook could notice, weighed molecules for a century of chemistry, and in 1887 showed that salts in water are made of ions.
The cloud that cools more slowly than the air
Dry air carried upward cools at 9.8 degrees per kilometre, and the atmosphere, which cools at about 6.5, is stable against it: a dry parcel nudged upward ends up colder than its surroundings and sinks back. Saturated air is different. As it rises its vapour condenses, the latent heat warms it, and it cools at only four to six degrees per kilometre in the lower atmosphere. The same column of air is then unstable to it. Most of the troposphere, most of the time, is stable until something lifts air to saturation, and then it is not — and that one asymmetry runs from a fair-weather cumulus to a thunderstorm, to the warm wind that comes down the far side of a mountain.
The frost that lifts by drinking
Frozen ground rises in winter, sometimes by tens of centimetres, and the usual explanation — water expands by nine per cent when it freezes — is wrong: soil soaked in benzene, which shrinks as it freezes, heaves too. The lift comes from layers of clear ice that grow by pulling liquid water up through the soil from below. Ice and water touching each other need not be at the same pressure, and when the water is free to flow, ice a degree below its melting point can push with 1.12 megapascals while it drinks — twelve times less than freezing water in a sealed pipe, and enough to lift a house at a tenth of a degree.
The puddle that could dry in a second
A liquid in equilibrium with its vapour loses molecules exactly as fast as the vapour delivers them, and kinetic theory says how fast that is. For water at room temperature it is two and a half kilograms per square metre every second — a puddle two and a half millimetres deep gone in a second. Puddles take hours because almost every molecule that leaves is knocked back by the air within a fraction of a micrometre. The ceiling binds only where the vapour can escape in a single free flight: in vacuum, where water freezes itself, in the smallest droplets, and on the filament of a lamp.
The entropy every liquid gains on boiling
Divide the heat it takes to boil a liquid by the temperature at which it boils, and for benzene, chloroform, acetone, hexane, ether and carbon tetrachloride the answer comes out within a few per cent of the same number — about ten and a half times the gas constant. Frederick Trouton noticed it in 1884. It is a statement about entropy, and once it is read that way the liquids it fails for become the interesting ones: water and the alcohols, whose hydrogen bonds hold the liquid in order; acetic acid, whose vapour is made of pairs; and helium, whose liquid is already as disordered as quantum mechanics allows.
The supercooled water that only partly freezes
Water can be cooled well below 0 °C and stay liquid, and when a crystal finally starts, the whole bottle seems to turn to ice at once. It does not. Freezing releases heat, and with nowhere for that heat to go in the instant of freezing, it warms everything back to 0 °C — at which point freezing must stop. Water cooled to −15 °C freezes about a fifth at once; to −38 °C, the coldest liquid water gets, about half. The rest has to wait for the surroundings to take the heat away, and a hand warmer is the same arithmetic run above body temperature.
The column that boils from the middle
Water at the bottom of a geyser's tube is hotter than water anywhere else in it, and it is not the water that boils first. The weight of the column raises the boiling point with depth faster than the heat from below raises the temperature, so the column reaches its boiling curve partway down, under a cooler surface layer. A little boiling there lifts the water above. Everything beneath is then at a lower pressure than the one it was heated under, so it is superheated and flashes, and the eruption feeds itself: past about fourteen centimetres of water thrown out, each slug of steam makes more room than it was given.
The cylinder that must not be cooled
The first steam engines that did useful work, Thomas Newcomen's pumps of 1712, made a vacuum by spraying cold water into a cylinder full of steam. It worked, and on every stroke it cooled the cylinder, so that the next charge of steam condensed on the cold iron until the walls were hot again — several cylinders' worth of steam spent heating metal that the next spray would cool. James Watt saw in 1765 that the vessel was being asked to be hot and cold at once, and moved the cold to a separate condenser. The improvement was a factor of three or four in coal. A century later the reason had a name: heat passing from hot to cold across a large difference, doing nothing on the way, is work thrown away.
The pipe that carries heat as vapour
A copper rod six millimetres across and thirty centimetres long, asked to carry thirty watts from a laptop's processor to its fan, would need its hot end eight hundred degrees above its cold end. The flattened copper tube that actually does the job manages it with less than a degree. It is a heat pipe: sealed, emptied of air, and holding a few drops of water and their vapour. The water boils at the hot end, the vapour rushes to the cold end and condenses, and a wick of sintered copper powder drags the liquid back by capillarity. The heat goes as latent heat, and vapour needs almost no temperature difference to flow — which makes the pipe a thousand times better than copper, as long as its wick can keep up.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
EntropyPhase transitionClausius clapeyronNucleationVapour pressureChemical potentialEquilibriumTemperatureFree energyMetastabilityBoiling pointThe Boltzmann factor