The degrees a thermocouple cannot see
Assumes: The loss that depends on what it causes · The area a curve cannot have
Every thermal statement this collection has made is about one temperature. A thermal resistance carries watts from a junction to an ambient; a fixed point solves T = Tₐ + Rₜₕ·P(T); a ladder of three stages carries a pulse. All of them treat the part as isothermal — including the pulse the heatsink does not feel, whose three stages are three lumps rather than a continuum — and all of them were right to, for a reason that is worth measuring rather than assuming.
A core is not isothermal. It makes its heat in its volume — every cubic millimetre of ferrite carrying flux dissipates — and it loses that heat from its surface. So there is a gradient inside, the middle is hotter than the outside, and the two temperatures answer different questions: the surface is what a thermocouple reads, and the middle is what decides whether the material has run out of flux.
The boundary that is a starting point named this as the reason its ignition temperature is a slight overestimate. Here is the slight.
What is solved
Steady conduction with volumetric generation, through the thickness of the core, with a surface film at each face:
−k T″ = q(T), with −k T′ = h(T − Tₐ) at the faces.
For a uniform q that has a closed form: the surface sits q·d/2h above ambient and the middle sits a further q·d²/8k above the surface. Divide the two and the ratio is h·d/4k, so the internal gradient’s share of the whole rise is Bi/(Bi + 2) with the Biot number Bi = h·d/2k. One dimensionless number decides how much of a part’s temperature rise is inside it, and neither the loss nor the size appears in it alone.
The generation is not uniform, which is what makes this worth solving rather than evaluating. A ferrite’s loss falls with temperature — the exponent nobody put in is where that dependence is measured rather than fitted — so the hot middle of the core makes less heat than its cool faces, and the gradient comes out below the closed form. Forty-one cells, a tridiagonal solve, the loss density evaluated at each cell’s own temperature, and the whole thing iterated to a fixed point.
The five per cent shortfall is the check. A solver that returned qd²/8k exactly would be one that had not noticed the material was in it, so the agreement being close and the direction being consistent is what says the coupling is real and small — the same shape of evidence as the calibration in the wire that is not a foil, where a substitution had to be exact at one geometry before its error elsewhere meant anything.
Why the isothermal assumption has been safe
For a ferrite in still air the numbers are small.
A twenty-millimetre core, thermal conductivity around four watts per metre per kelvin, natural convection at ten to thirty watts per square metre per kelvin: the Biot number is between 0.025 and 0.08, and the internal gradient is one to three per cent of the rise. Ninety kelvin of rise, two and a half kelvin of it inside. Everything this collection has computed with one temperature has been within three per cent of the right one.
That is the first counterintuitive thing here, and it is worth stating plainly: the worse the cooling, the better the isothermal assumption. A poorly cooled part has a huge surface rise and almost all of its temperature difference is between the surface and the air.
And why it stops being safe exactly when the design improves
Now cool the surface properly.
Better cooling does not make a part more nearly isothermal. It removes the surface’s share of the rise and leaves the core’s own, so the internal gradient becomes a larger and larger fraction of a smaller and smaller number — 2.08 per cent at a poor surface, 78 per cent at a good one.
And there is a second effect on top of it, which is a property of this material rather than of conduction. The gradient in kelvin grows too, from 2.38 to 3.37 across the same range, because a ferrite’s loss falls with temperature: cooling the core makes it dissipate more, and more generation in the same conductivity is a steeper profile.
So the two things move the same way and the share moves faster than either. A designer who improves the cooling and keeps computing with one temperature is getting worse at it as the design gets better.
The size of a core, and the thing that scales wrong
The Biot number carries the thickness linearly, so a thicker core is further from isothermal at the same cooling — but the interesting scaling is not that one.
Sweep the thickness at a fixed cooling regime rather than a fixed h. A five-millimetre core in still air is 0.24 per cent internal with a gradient of 0.17 kelvin; a thirty-five millimetre core is 6.09 per cent internal with a gradient of 7.2 kelvin. The gradient has grown forty-two times while the thickness grew seven, which is the d² in qd²/8k.
That is the argument for the shape of large magnetics, and it is not usually stated thermally. Beyond some size a core cannot be cooled through its surface at all, because the heat has too far to travel inside it, and the answer is to stop making it thicker: several smaller cores in parallel, a distributed gap, or a shape with more surface per unit volume. A design that doubles a core’s linear dimensions gets eight times the volume, four times the surface and four times the internal gradient — so the middle gets hotter even though the loss density has not changed.
And the loss density is what the whole thing is proportional to. Everything in this essay scales linearly with q, so a design running at half the flux density has half the gradient as well as a quarter of the loss. The Biot number does not move, because it has no loss in it at all — which is the whole reason it is the parameter worth quoting.
What the gradient is actually worth
Three consequences, in ascending order of how much they matter.
A thermocouple reads low. A probe on the outside of a core reads the surface. In still air that is 2.6 kelvin below the peak, which is inside anybody’s measurement uncertainty. On a cold plate it is 3.4 kelvin below a rise of four, which is most of the answer.
A loss measurement made from a temperature rise is out by the same amount, and in the direction that flatters the part: a core whose surface rose by ninety kelvin is assumed to be at ninety, its loss is inferred from a thermal resistance, and the material was actually at ninety-two and dissipating slightly less than the inference says. That is a measurement condition of the kind the edges that move with the room collects, attached to a quantity everybody quotes without one.
And the flux ceiling is decided by the peak. This is the one that changes an answer rather than a measurement — and the ceiling is the material’s own, which the area a curve cannot have computes from a marched loop. A ferrite’s saturation flux density falls with temperature, so the part of the core that runs out of flux first is the hottest part — and every ignition temperature, every runaway boundary and every survivable overload duration in the boundary that is a starting point was computed for a part at one temperature. The middle reaches the ceiling before the average does, so those boundaries are optimistic by the gradient: about three kelvin in still air, and rather more once the part is properly cooled.
Two temperatures, and which model wants which
The reason to keep both numbers rather than settling on one is that the questions a design asks are not all asked of the same temperature, and the site has now met three of them in three places.
The insulation’s temperature index wants the hottest copper. That is not in this essay at all — it is the turns nearest the gap’s worst turn, twenty-seven times its neighbours’ loss, in the middle of a winding with the longest thermal path out.
The material’s flux ceiling wants the hottest ferrite, which is the peak measured here.
And the loss budget wants the average, because the total dissipation is what the thermal path has to carry and an average is exactly what an integral over a volume produces.
Using one of them for all three is the ordinary mistake, and the direction it errs in is different in each case: the average understates the insulation’s temperature by a lot, understates the material’s by a few kelvin, and is exactly right for the budget. A design that computes one temperature and compares it against three limits is passing two of them on a technicality.
The three lengths in the problem, and which one is the core’s
It is worth separating the quantities, because “thermal resistance” is used for all of them and they do not behave alike.
The film, 1/hA, which is the surface to the air. It is what a heatsink or a fan changes, it is usually the largest term, and it is the only one a designer has much control over.
The conduction inside the part, d/kA scaled by whatever fraction of the path the heat travels. For distributed generation that is d/8kA for the middle-to-surface difference, and it is fixed by the material and the size.
And the spreading resistance where the core meets whatever it is mounted on, which is neither of the above and is not modelled here at all.
The Biot number is exactly the ratio of the first two, and the reason it is the useful parameter is that it says which of them the design is currently limited by without needing either in absolute terms.
What a bench measurement can and cannot resolve
The gradient measured here is between two and ten kelvin, and the honest question is whether an instrument could tell.
A thermocouple bonded to a core surface is good for about a kelvin against the surface it is bonded to, and considerably worse against the material, because the bond has its own thermal resistance and the probe conducts heat away along its own wires. Two and a half kelvin is at the edge of what that arrangement resolves.
Drilling a core to put a probe in the middle changes the object: a hole is a place where no flux flows and no heat is generated, and it interrupts the conduction path the measurement is about. An infra-red camera sees the surface only, which is the temperature that was never in question.
So the internal gradient belongs to the class of quantities this collection keeps meeting — a real effect, of a known size, that no ordinary instrument reads directly and that therefore has to be computed if it is to be known at all. The two-routes discipline applies with more force rather than less: the closed form for uniform generation and the coupled solve agree to five per cent, and the five per cent is itself explained by the material’s own coefficient.
Where the model stops
One dimension. A core is solved here as a slab of stated thickness, which is the right model for the centre limb of an E-core between two flat faces and the wrong one for a toroid or a pot core, where the heat leaves in two directions and the effective d is smaller.
No winding. The copper’s own loss is generated somewhere else and removed by a different path, so it is left out of the conduction problem entirely and only the core’s share is used — the share the core the solver has to remember separates from the copper’s inside a marched netlist. That is conservative for the core’s gradient and it means the numbers here are not a whole part’s thermal model.
And the surface coefficient is a number. Natural convection depends on the temperature difference it is driving, roughly to the power of a quarter — the same shape of dependence the loss that depends on what it causes has to resolve on the generation side — so h is not constant across the range swept — which matters for the absolute temperatures and not for the Biot relationship, since that is evaluated at each h separately.
The number worth carrying
Bi/(Bi + 2), and a Biot number between 0.02 and 0.08 for a ferrite in air.
The habit that goes with it is the one about when to stop simplifying. The isothermal assumption is not merely adequate for a ferrite core in still air; it is adequate by a factor of thirty, and solving a profile to find that out is the right use of a model rather than a waste of one. What the same model then says is where the assumption expires — and it expires in the direction of better engineering, which is the direction nobody re-checks an assumption in.
What the gradient does to the loops that were closed on one temperature
A lumped temperature is not merely a simplification here; it is the state variable of every thermal feedback result in this collection, and a gradient means those loops were closed on the wrong number.
The loss that depends on what it causes closes the loop: a ferrite’s saturation flux falls with temperature and its permeability rises, both move the loss, and the temperature becomes a fixed point rather than a product — with a stable root at 89 degrees whose loop gain is negative, an ignition root at 191 whose loop gain is 120, and a thermal resistance of 183 kelvin per watt at which the two touch and neither exists. Every one of those numbers is a solution of an equation in one temperature.
The boundary that is a starting point then marches the same equation rather than solving it, and finds trajectories three kelvin apart on either side of 189.6 degrees going opposite ways. Three kelvin is the same size as the gradient measured on this page — 2.59 kelvin in still air and 3.37 on a cold plate — so the initial condition that decides whether a core runs away is comparable with the difference between the temperature at its centre and the one at its surface.
Which is the sharpest consequence of the result here and is worth stating as a question rather than as a correction. A runaway starts where the material is hottest, and a thermal model with one temperature in it does not have a hottest place. Whether the ignition threshold should be compared against the centre temperature or the mean is a modelling decision that none of those essays had to make, and the gradient measured here is how much it is worth.
The direction of the second result is what makes this worth an essay rather than a footnote. Cooling the core on a plate does not shrink the gradient; it grows it, to 3.37 kelvin, and takes it from 2.9 per cent of the rise to 78 per cent of what is left. So the lumped model is best where the cooling is worst, and the case in which somebody has taken trouble over the thermal design is the case in which the model they are checking it with has stopped being adequate.
That is the same inversion the sensor inside its own answer finds on a much smaller object: a junction used as a thermometer under-reports every change in ambient by 9 584 parts per million, because its own dissipation falls as the reading rises — an error that a calibration at one temperature cannot remove and that gets proportionally worse as the mounting gets better. In both cases the quantity being neglected is a difference between where the heat is made and where it is measured, and in both cases improving the heat path changes the difference rather than removing it.
Part 5 on thermal feedback
One argument about Thermal feedback, and one of 6 essays on it so far, each part numbered by how much of the idea it assumes. What sits either side of it:
What links here
Essays that reach for this one mid-argument — the half of a link its own author cannot write down.
The objects named here
The third axis, after the field and the idea: the things themselves, and every essay that touches each one.
Biot numberDesign tradeoffHeat conductionHot spotMagnetic lossMeasurement conditionModel rangeThermal feedbackThermal resistance
- A boundary is a model and a tolerance design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range
- Interleaving is a choice, not an improvement design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range
- The cable that hides two things design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range
- The coefficient that is about one reading design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range
- The optimum a spectrum moves design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range
- The other half of the same window design tradeoff, measurement condition, model range