AB9IL.net: Using the LibreSDR B210 clone SDR

Gathering the Gear

The day began with a quiet white‑box on the desk, a clone of the LiteSDR 10‑band B210. It’s a gentle‑looking device that cradles a 56 MHz wide *ieee‑802.11b* transceiver, yet can be coaxed to listen across the entire HF spectrum with a simple RF front end. I slid an LNA, a 100 kΩ bias tee, and an AWC‑442 antenna into place – all that remained to be done was to coax the unit into the 20‑meter skyline.

Tuning in the Spectrum

I pulled up CubicSDR on the laptop and wired the B210 to a USB port that sparkled as a 3 Gbps conduit. The LCD of the clone flashed with a Wave form of silence, and I slid the frequency cable to 14 MHz, past the 7 MHz lower band but well within the 14 MHz range where the 20‑meter site sits. The software’s waterfall flickered, a green band blooming on the screen like pale summer grass. I spaced the bandwidth to 10 kHz, punching down into a sweet spot for WSPR transmissions. 50 Hz chirps nested inside a 1‑minute burst whispered through the screen. The gentle hum was not that of a silent ocean but of a thousand small radio ships moving.

Locating the Ember on the Airwaves

With a map of the amateur spectrum in mind, I began a sweep: 7.1525 MHz, 10.7225 MHz, 14.2295 MHz, 18.1685 MHz, 21.1905 MHz, 24.3985 MHz, and 28.9145 MHz. Those were the blinking points on an almost monochrome radio chart, and the B210 was a faithful light rain that traced each. In each narrow band I listened for *WSPR* – the slow 50 Hz chirp, repurposed by the ham community to piggyback on the shortest, most efficient time to shrink a burst of 1‑minute into a wave. The B210’s 56 MHz bandwidth was generous, but the real trick lay in using a narrow tuner: a 300 kHz bandwidth for 7 MHz band never drowned out its delicate chirp. Meanwhile, on the 28.9145 MHz track, the chorus of VHF hobbyists barely moved the hands of the waterfall; a single chirp stood out in vivid blue.

Calibration with a Secondary Beacon

Sensing that airwave clarity depended on calibration, I followed the old practice of leveraging a beacon hidden near 14.2295 MHz. Those beacons, like a highway toll–booth, kept : one per 5 kHz sector lit. I tuned to 14.2325 MHz, plucked the amplitude, and matched that to the known value in CubicSDR. The B210’s internal crystal then became a reliable anchor. The subsequent WSPR chirps started to arrive heavy and unsudden – the *WSPRnet* score improved trimmed from an inconsistent record to a solid 7 dB better reception.

The Moment of Signal Confirmation

Around 3 p.m., the B210’s waterfall burst into a *red* symphony as a WSPR packet from a distant station (WB4QL) arrived on 21.1905 MHz. It was a modest 50 Hz trace, easy like a finger on a scale. The packet’s chirp fell from 21.1905 MHz to 21.1745 MHz in a linear sweep – a *graduated* motion that I had never felt almost as rhythmic as a bird migrating south. Each 50 Hz chirp loaded the receipt logic in CubicSDR, and each chirp in turn filled the *power–time* chart across a sensible log. The triumphant moment was more than the alignment; it was the feeling of the entire chain—**USB, LNA, front‑end filter, antenna, copy of the 56 MHz B210**—all cooperating seamlessly to bring that invisible footfall into the world. The B210,

Getting the SDR in Front of the Tower

On a crisp Tuesday evening, Alex slid the new LibreSDR B210 clone into the rig’s rack beside the old ham radio. The clone, a faithful copy of the original B210, promised the same 2.5‑gigasample‑per‑second power with a slightly more modest 256‑megaclick temperature‑controlled crystal. Alex knew that the magic of the SDR was its ability to listen to wide swaths of spectrum, but for WSPR‑15 it was all about that razor‑thin 15 kHz slice that danced on the frequencies of the amateur bands.

The 20 Meter Window on a Quiet 14.095 MHz Band

After booting the software, Alex opened CubicSDR, pointed the dongle at 14.095 MHz, and set the gain to a gentle 40 dB. The SDR’s four‑channel architecture allowed him to pad the sample rate to 512 kS/s, cleanly covering the 15 kHz WSPR bandwidth while leaving room for a guard band to filter out neighboring congestions. As the screen filled with densely packed, low‑SNR spectra, he could see the faint ghost of a WSPR transmission: a narrow flare that rose and fell in a well‑timed strobed pattern of 5‑second bursts.

Mining the 2 Meter Adventures at 144.390 MHz

The next day, Alex hopped to the 2‑meter band and tuned to 144.390 MHz, a region known for its milder propagation during the day. The B210 clone handled the frequency gracefully—the thin 15 kHz passband could be isolated with an internal IF filter, and the floating‑point DSP in CubicSDR mathed out the power in the stuble pulses. To share his findings, Alex exported a short WAV clip and posted it on the local WSPR community forum. The tone let his neighbors know he was listening in, even though the kit’s antenna was just a thin 1/4‑wave whip on the table.

Adapting to the New 2024 WSPR‑15 Band Plans

With the recent 2024 WSPR–15 Band Plan update, several bands welcomed new tags for experimental bands and for QRP‑friendly, higher‑frequency options. The plan opened 0.7 GHz, 1.2 GHz, and the uncharted 3.2 GHz band to 15 kHz slots, and Alex’s clone, thanks to its wide (200 MHz) instantaneous bandwidth, could look anywhere at once. By slinging a small dual‑band dipole on the antenna mount, he found himself within a closed‑loop that listened to 7.035 MHz, 10.064 MHz, 12.702 MHz, 17.015 MHz, and even the remote 1.2 GHz slot—all at the same time.

The Exact Frequencies Are the Heartbeat of the Seams

For WSPR‑15, the clarity comes from hitting those exact place‑specific frequencies. Below is the list of the most frequented broadcast sites, poked in the story with the precision of any Morse‑code signal:

• 20 

  When the Sky Fell Quiet

  I was standing on the back porch of my apartment, the sky a bruised indigo over the city. The first voice of the ham set always comes in when you’re unprepared: a rush of static, a razor‑sharp burst that cuts through the background noise. I had no idea what I was hearing—FT-8, perhaps, but I had only whittled out the Ministry’s e‑guide months before and had never listened in time to it. The only device I could afford that would let me hear those microseconds of QRP chatter was the LibreSDR B210 clone, and I was still learning how to coax that clone into the hands of a decent receiver.

  The Oath of the Clone

  The clone, a cheap translation of the USRP B210 with a 250‑kHz bandwidth and a 4‑Msps sampling clock, was surprisingly powerful. In this latest firmware update — Linux 6.7‑rc5 — the clone now supports the uhd_usrp_probe utility natively on my Ubuntu 22.04 machine. What mattered most was the family of drivers that linked the device to GNU Radio Companion, allowing me to place a Manual Filter Sink directly onto a realtime FFT screen. The software’s ability to demodulate narrowband QPSK, the family of frequencies targeted by FT-8, was the critical link between hardware and hope.

  Hunting the 2 Meter Beacon

  FT-8 is famous for its tight 15‑kHz slots. The canonical 14.066 MHz band is the heart of the UK 2‑meter zone, and the event‑planned 28.416 MHz excursion is a favorite of the Latin‑American and short‑wave communities. There are also quiet traffic bursts at 21.242 MHz and 50.466 MHz that pop up on amateur listeners who like to spread the listen to higher bands. In practice, tuning the clone to any of these three spots is a matter of a few keystrokes in the scope tool: 149.023 kHz of bandwidth, 700 kBps sampling, right there in the wav‑matrix.

  The First Satisfying Glow

  I started on 14.066 MHz, an hour after sunset when the ionosphere is still warm. Inside the FFT panel, the spectrum flickered with white‑noise hiss. I tightened the narrow‑band filter to 15 kHz, and a single color burst emerged: a crisp, narrow rectangular burst of 48 s in duration. A soft commutation pulse – the very signal that FT-8 operators send when they’ve found somewhere to listen – washed through the analog dark. The <

  When the First Echo Rings Out

  It began on a quiet Saturday evening when I had the LibreSDR B210 clone buzzing beneath my desk, the little golden antenna poised as if waiting for a mystery to unfold. The device, a faithful copy of the celebrated B210 design, opened a window into the invisible world of radio frequencies. I pointed it toward the deep blue sky over the open fields outside the campus, ready to chase the elusive FT‑4 signals that many amateur radio enthusiasts whispered about, but few had actually heard.

  Calibrating the Instrument

  I connected the SDR to my notebook and launched the open‑source Gqrx interface. After a quick check, the software confirmed that the receiver was clean at 14.130 MHz and still crisp at 28.030 MHz. These two frequencies are the flagship spots for the FT‑4 bursts: one on the 20‑meter band at 14.130 MHz, the other on the 10‑meter band at 28.030 MHz. The B210’s 1.5‑to‑6‑GHz bandwidth let me watch, in real time, the sweep from 14 to 28 MHz, catching every flicker.

  Room for Exploration

  Once the night fell over the quiet ham‑radio shack, the LibreSDR B210 clone sat on its table, a modest yet powerful door to the spectrum. The operator, a seasoned amateur with a curious spark in their eyes, had set the interface to OLIVIA mode—an initiative that needed meticulous listening to every hiss on the airwaves. No grand displays or flashy title bars, just raw data flowing in and the operator’s determined mind in the center.

  Setting the Scene

  The whisper of static was the only audience in the dimly lit room. The B210, connected to a laptop via USB‑3.0, spun its green LED into a steady pulse. The software, an open‑source collection of signal‑processing scripts, read the incoming frequency sweeps in real time. With every adjustment the subtle tones shifted—like a radio crossword that changes its letters as the operator gets closer to the solution.

  Picking the Band

  OLIVIA signals are known to inhabit the classic amateur bands. The operator began on the 2 meter band, oscillating between 144.000 MHz and 148.000 MHz. They then moved to the 70 centimètre zone around 420 MHz to 450 MHz, and even dabbled in the beautiful chaos of the 2.4 GHz spectrum. Each range waited with a different kind of signal—DMR chatter, simple FM voices, and the faint blue‑pulse bursts that belonged to OLIVIA’s test credits.

  Capturing the Signatures

  The B210’s sampling rate was cranked up to 24 Msps to capture every nuance. The software’s FFT engine displayed a clean bar graph in the console, and the operator watched for spikes in the expected OLIVIA frequency fingerprints. With a bold click, a 5 kHz burst appeared at 138.562 MHz, a known OLIVIA beacon for that area. Through the silent transmission, the operator could almost hear the drummer's handbeat in the packet’s metadata.

  The Moment it Clicks

  When a faint OLIVIA packet leapt above the noise floor, the operator felt the kind of electric thrill that only technical mastery delivers. The packet’s payload was decoded: a sitting “Hello, Signal” from the test network. The B210 had quietly, relentlessly, but magnificently unlocked another corner of the air that most listeners did not.

  Beyond the Spectrum

  After the night’s session, the operator reflected on how the LibreSDR B210 clone folded over the entire amateur landscape. Every band, from the classic 2 meter to the fast‑moving 2.4 GHz, became an open book. The mission to observe OLIVIA signals was not just about keeping a watch; it was about augmenting the coming future of radio with transparency and shared knowledge.

  Arrival of the Clone

  The day the LibreSDR B210 clone arrived, the subtle hiss of a power cable chimed in the quiet of the workshop. It sat on the table, gleaming stainless‑steel in the morning light, its PCB maps printed in a language that promised more than a sandwich board of amateur radio curiosity. The little SDR was a faithful copy of the original B210, with a Waveshare FPGA board and the same wide‑band 325 MHz (sweeping) front‑end. I could already feel the promise of quiet frequencies in the air.

  Setting the Stage

  Connecting the B210 clone to the laptop, I opened SDR#, the robust open‑source GUI. The software recognised the device with a casual “Device connected”. Power‑up steps were simple: the RF gain was set to 10 dB, the audio source to 48 kHz, and the sampling rate was settled on 2.4 MS/s for full 20‑band coverage from 25 kHz to 3 GHz. With the filter box open, I set a 12‑MHz bandwidth window that would let the amateur bands breathe.

  First Ears on 2 Meters

  My first sweep landed on the 2 meter band. The tuner lock‑step revealed the silent glimmer of 147 MHz and the unmistakable MT63 voice at 147.525 MHz, a sorting frequency that sits in the middle of the 2 meter allocation (145.0 – 148.0 MHz). The narrowband display showed a clear modulation, and the demodulator in the software appreciated the pattern: a dance of beating tones that translated to pleasant speech when decoded. I could hear the casual chatter of a group huddling near 147.575 MHz, all in MT63, filling the long‑wave horizon.

  Seeking Quiet Two‑Way

  Shifting the centre frequency to the 70‑centimetre band, the SDR’s loop found the region around 432 MHz. The hobbyist community has long used MT63 on this band, with a preferred frequency of 433.100 MHz. The waveform resonated with a tap‑tap rhythm. The MT63 packet on 432.200 MHz sparked an exciting experiment—tripartite sending of a short voice message, all encoded with a 100 Hz voice modulation. The decode produced a clear translation, confirming that the cloned SDR held the capacity to capture modest transmissions in this high‑frequency realm.

  Venturing Into the 23‑Centimetre

  My next step was the 23‑centimetre band, where MT63 balloons high at 1.230 GHz. After adjusting the tuner to 1.230 650 MHz, the spectral window lit up with a bright, stable tone. The audio slot in the SDR software, after a little boosting, translated raw data into intelligible speech. The audible narrative of a remote amateur base station, communicating with operators across continents, filled the workshop with a tangible sense of shared endeavour.

  Exploring the Wavelengths Beyond

  Beyond the 2 meter, 70‑centimetre, and 23‑centimetre bands, several other attractions presented themselves. In the 1.8‑meter band, the cloned SDR easily slid to 149.578 MHz, a common MT63 hotspot for procedural records; the spectral peak was sharp, a sunset signal of a daily meeting. At 3.5 meters, the field of view captured an MT63 exchange on 50.012 MHz. In the 5‑meter region, a likely MT63/Packet burst emerged from 60.310 MHz, a subtle reminder that the clone can find frequency islands across a spectrum wide enough to make an entire world feel connected.

  Reflections on the Clone’s Work

  The day the SDR finished a sweep from 25 kHz up to 3 GHz, it left a trail of captured data in its wake. The delicate voltages that flowed through its circuits were, now, a window for amateur radio community stories—of MT63 waves shaping voices on every band, from 2 meters to 3 GHz. For me, the journey was less about the hardware and more about how those signals can be decoded, understood, and proselytised across a hobby that encourages listening, learning, and sharing.

  When the Desk‑Radar Turns Into a Listener

  In the quiet corner of a cramped rooftop studio, a LibreSDR B210 clone sat on a wooden table, its tiny soldered board glowing faintly through the chassis. The receiver’s firmware, recently patched to streamline its COBALT decoding, was just ready for its first full‑band sweep. The hobbyist, a veteran PSK‑31 operator, held the headphones at the front, ready to chase faint whispers across the amateur spectrum.

  Staring Into the Spectrum

  With a few clicks in SDR# and the low‑band filter gently rolled up, the OSS (Open Source Station) gave a soft hiss. The spectrum display bloomed with the classic rolling waves of noise floor, punctuated by occasional bursts of drift. Each sharp rise in amplitude translated into a signal that could be my next conversation partner. The B210’s 1.6 MHz input bandwidth was more than enough to capture the 31.25 kHz audio carrier that powers PSK‑31, and the quad‑antenna feed made the device surprisingly versatile.

  The PSK‑31 Band Landscape

  On the 2 m band, listeners usually target the 10.75 MHz anchor, a middlestay that provides the best mix of reach and clear audio. The 20 m band houses the familiar 14.17 MHz region, where a steady stream of casual transmissions is always flowing. For those craving a quiet background, the 7.15 MHz spot on 40 m sits just outside most national HF alerts, offering a few dozen field‑day contacts per minute.

  A Newfound Frequency Wonderland

  Recent experiments with the B210’s wideband ADC (up to 20 MHz per sideband, thanks to a firmware upgrade released in April 2024) opened a new chapter for PSK‑31 listening. The 80‑meter band’s 3.55 MHz transmit range now comes cleanly within the SDR’s passband, allowing me to see the quiet pop‑cipher evenings that were once swamped by meteor scatter. Over the 10‑meter band, the 28.30 MHz segment is a ripe spot for nighttime dual‑sideband parties.

  Monitoring Tricks of the Trade

  Setting the radio to 1 kHz resolution and a 50‑Hz chirp rate gave a butterfly‑like view that made every single PSK‑31 chirp visible. When tuned to 14.030 MHz, the frequency was low enough that the B210’s plug‑and‑play design kept the transmitter’s audio spectrum from bleeding. The spectral display made it trivial to note the unique 31.25 kHz cadence that identifies the sought‑after mode. The crew of digital voice handlers at the far end of the band sat at their rigs, waiting for the faint, pulsed signal to arrive from analog worlds.

  From Static to Dialogue

  After a hour of listening, the first burst finally hit. The little chirps that arm the 145 000 caller tuned in, and the signal climbed sharply in the waterfall. A smooth PSK‑31 audio frame crackled across the headset, and the operator gathered the audio in Fldigi. The dialog that followed was a celebration of the B210’s quiet, high‑dynamic‑range front‑end and the low‑profile design that let the Amateur Radio Service breathe on both the 2 m and 40 m bands together. The receiver, now fully calibrated, listens properly across the spectrum, and the next conversation waits

  The Arrival of the LibreSDR B210 Clone

  When I first opened the box of the LibreSDR B210 clone, I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a sense of possibility. The sleek chassis was a far cry from the hefty, proprietary radios I had used before, yet its low cost and open‑source firmware promised a gateway to every band I was eager to explore.

  First Encounters on the 6‑Meter Band

  My mind was already racing with memories of PSK‑63, the ultra‑wideband mode that had become a staple of casual propagation on the 6‑meter band. The clearer the reception, the richer the tension between call signs and the subtle body language of the signal’s curvature. Around 60.5 MHz lies the heart of that narrowband world – a frequency that is now more accessible than ever, thanks to the friendly tuner and the community‑tested drivers that ship with LibreSDR.

  In my first sit‑down, I unlocked the frequency sweep on the B210, letting the tuner glide from 58 MHz to 62 MHz. The beast’s spectrum analyzer whirred. I could see the distinct burst of PSK‑63 packets as they flared across the band, occasionally braided together like Braille on a surfer’s board. The loopback makes sound like a gentle crash of waves against a shoreline, with the full width of the band offered, from about 58 MHz up to just below 60.5 MHz, yielding a golden horizon for hobbyists to chase.

  Journey Across the 2‑Meter Band with PSK‑125

  My next destination was the 2‑meter band, a place less camped by traditional voice traffic, where PSK‑125 truly shines. The high‑frequency mode names no longer obscure the feel; the wide-format bursts in this band can make distant stations trace December sky‑walking dust. The dominant frequency for PSK‑125 sits near 140.5 MHz, though the constellation of sub‑bands stretches through 139 to 141 MHz. Coupled with the ability of the LibreSDR to synthesize a slew of intermediate frequency paths, I could manipulate the tuner to mellow out the sometimes oppressive national filters around the 2‑meter band.

  My first listen on 140.5 MHz felt like stepping into an otherworldly tundra, with pixels of static dancing between the beats. Those tones, encoded at 125 bytes of payload, were as rich as a miniature symphony. I was especially fascinated by how PSK‑125 packets in the 2‑meter band sometimes collided with them, forming a comet tail that stretched into lower frequencies.

  The Real‑Time Spectrum Playground

  With the LibreSDR’s RF4IP firmware, the tuner could be queried in real time, letting me watch spectral slices on a laptop interface. This gave me a window onto the duplicate modes that thrive on “skip” and “shortwave” enjoyment, the wavelets that appear in the 4 m band around 75‐81 MHz for PSK‑63 or on the 40‑meter band for 125 Hz QPSK.

  When I switched the tuner to 85 MHz, a pulse of PSK‑63 showed itself, a trickle of digital music that highlighted how the B210 could scream its comb‑splitting ability for all kinds of amateur radio fun. The freedom to toggle quickly between 60.5 MHz for PSK‑63 and 140.5 MHz for PSK‑125 felt surreal; it became a dance floor of spectral cousins, choreographed by a lightweight, open‑source platform.

  From Theoretical Freedom to Practical Reality

  Adopting the LibreSDR clone posed no drills or formalities. I simply glued the USB cable, loaded the metadata‑filled sample files, and let the monitor run in an endless loop over 24 hours. The B210’s warm‑green status line flickered distinctively whenever a PSK packet burst was sighted, almost like a subtle heart‑beat of the radio sky. The detail of these signals, when rendered on the laptop’s oscilloscope, blended physics with artistry—everything from handshake patterns on PSK‑63 to the energy distribution of PSK‑125 answered the call of enthusiasts to peer deeper into the spectral sky, one packet at a time.

  
  
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