jwc3
Contributor
On Tuesday, July 28th, I dove on the wreck of the Hebe off of the South Carolina coast. The Hebe is a Dutch freighter that sank during WW2. This is the story of how my dive buddy almost (or maybe did) get the bends. (Sorry in advance for the long post.)
I'll not name the dive shop, since none of this was their fault. I arrived on the boat alone so I paired up with a fellow diver, Bob. (Not his real name.) During the 2.5 hour ride to the dive site (the wreck is 43 miles off shore) we talked about our dive history and worked out our hand signals. We're both AOW certified. Bob was probably in his mid 50s, said he's been diving since 1975. This was the first dive on the SC coast for both of us.
My first clue that things might not go according to plan was when I asked Bob what he wanted to do if we got separated on the dive. "Let's just plan on not getting separated," he said.
"Well, of course that's Plan A," I answered, "but we should also have a Plan B, too." We finally agreed that if we got separated we'd head back to the anchor line to look for each other, then head to the surface.
On the way to the dive site Bob said he was starting to feel sea sick, so I gave him one of my chewable Dramine tablets. About 30 minutes later he got sick over the side of the boat.
When the boat reached the dive site, we got into our wetsuits and gear quickly, but then had to sit in the hot sun while the boat crew rigged the lines for the dive. The crew gave us a safety briefing and emphasized that we were to enter the water from the back of the boat and hold on to the float line to wait for our buddy. Then we were supposed to follow the line that was 15 feet under the boat all the way forward to the anchor line, and then follow the anchor line down to the wreck. The crew also stressed that we needed to begin our ascent up the anchor line with 1500 psi left in our tanks.
Bob was getting impatient to get in the water, I think because he was hot and starting to feel sea sick again. He looked pale and was sweating. I tried to do the BWFAR check on the boat with him, but he pushed past me and headed for the water, saying we could do that check once we we got wet. (We never did.)
Once in the water I realized that the current was a bit stronger than I expected, so I was glad to have the system of lines available to find the wreck. Bob and I exchanged OK signs and agreed to descend. I descended to 15 feet and started working my way along the ropes toward the anchor line. I looked back at Bob to make sure he was on the line with me, but he was still above me, just 2 or 3 feet below the surface. He was directly under the back of the boat and almost got hit in the head several times as the boat moved up and down on the waves. I signaled to him to descent to avoid the boat. He gave me the "OK" signal, then let go of the line and started dropping straight down, passing me and the safety line. I watched in disbelief as he dropped below me, fighting the current as he went. Visibility was only 30 or 40 feet, so I quickly lost track of him and his bubbles.
"So much for Plan A," I thought to myself. What in the world was Bob thinking? He said he didn't want to get separated and then he descended without the anchor line and without me just 2 or 3 minutes into the dive. I wasn't going to follow him and fight that current. And I didn't even know if I could find the wreck without the anchor line. I thought about surfacing to tell the boat crew that Bob had not used the anchor line to descend and thus might be lost, but remembered that Plan B was to meet at the bottom of the anchor line. I decided to follow the anchor line down and look for him there. If he was not there, I would resurface and tell the crew.
The anchor line was tied into the wreck about 90 feet below the surface. As I got closer to the bottom, the wreck came into view. Amazingly, Bob was there, waiting for me. I gave him the OK sign, and he returned it. At this point I felt silly for worrying about him. "He has more experience than me," I thought. "I guess he knows what he's doing."
We swam into the current along the wreck for a minute and then stopped to take photos of some lion fish that were living on the wreck. Then I took a photo of Bob, and he took one of me. I motioned that we should keep moving forward on the wreck.
Bob held up 4 fingers. Four? Four hundred? Is he telling me that he has 400 psi left in his tank? That didn't seem likely since we had only been in the water for about 10 or 11 minutes at this point. I shrugged my shoulders to say that I didn't understand. He pointed to his pressure gauge, held up 4 fingers again, frantically made the out of air sign, then turned and swam as fast as he could for the anchor line. Yep, he only had 400 psi left in his tank. I tried to catch him and offer him my octopus, but he was too far ahead of me.
Well, you're supposed to stay with your buddy, and I wasn't going to stay on the wreck alone. Also, I was worried that Bob might have trouble on the way up, so I followed Bob to the anchor line and ascended as fast as my dive computer would allow. I lost sight of him about half way up the line since he was going up much faster than me, but then saw him again as I neared the surface. He swam right past the spare tank that was hanging from below the boat on a 15 foot rope and to the ladders on the back of the boat.
I held onto the line at 15 feet and did my safety stop. I could see Bob on the ladder, trying to remove his fins. His motions seemed a bit erratic. He dropped one of his weights, then his dive light and I watched them fall through a school of barracuda toward the bottom.
When I reached the surface, I held onto the line attached to the back of the boat. The crew was helping Bob remove his gear. I spit out my regulator and yelled, "Bob, you didn't do your 3-minute safety stop!" He had come up from 96 feet in about 1 minute. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Oh yeah, I guess I didn't." He said. One of the crew members asked him how deep he had gone. Bob didn't seem to know, so I checked my computer and yelled to the crew that my max depth had been 96 feet. The boat crew quickly offered him oxygen but he refused.
Instead he said he would breathe out of one of the other Nitrox tanks that were on the boat. He said he didn't have any symptoms of the bends (and seemed to feel OK for the rest of the trip back to the dock).
Once I was out of the water I asked him how he had run out of air so fast. He said his octopus was free flowing on the way down to the wreck and he couldn't get it to stop. However, I never saw a bunch of bubbles when I was above him as he descended. And, why did he give me the OK sign when we met on the wreck and continue the dive? Why not tell me right away that he was low on air and slowly head to the surface? I think another factor was that he sucked down his air too quickly because he was fighting the current on the way down instead of using the anchor line.
I must confess that I'm still a bit of a new diver, so I was a little frazzled by all of this. I decided to skip the second dive and stay with Bob on the boat.
Bob was diving with his own regulator and octopus. He said they were recently serviced by his local dive shop. He said when he got home he was going to flame them on the internet and hoped they would be shut down in a few weeks due to a lack of customers.
So, I have a few questions for ScubaBoard members:
1. Is there anything I should have done differently?
2. How did Bob not get the bends if he came up from 96 feet in about 1 minute?
3. Is it possible that he started having symptoms of the bends later that day or night after we got off the boat?
4. Will breathing Nitrox rather than 100% O2 prevent the bends in this situation?
I'll not name the dive shop, since none of this was their fault. I arrived on the boat alone so I paired up with a fellow diver, Bob. (Not his real name.) During the 2.5 hour ride to the dive site (the wreck is 43 miles off shore) we talked about our dive history and worked out our hand signals. We're both AOW certified. Bob was probably in his mid 50s, said he's been diving since 1975. This was the first dive on the SC coast for both of us.
My first clue that things might not go according to plan was when I asked Bob what he wanted to do if we got separated on the dive. "Let's just plan on not getting separated," he said.

On the way to the dive site Bob said he was starting to feel sea sick, so I gave him one of my chewable Dramine tablets. About 30 minutes later he got sick over the side of the boat.
When the boat reached the dive site, we got into our wetsuits and gear quickly, but then had to sit in the hot sun while the boat crew rigged the lines for the dive. The crew gave us a safety briefing and emphasized that we were to enter the water from the back of the boat and hold on to the float line to wait for our buddy. Then we were supposed to follow the line that was 15 feet under the boat all the way forward to the anchor line, and then follow the anchor line down to the wreck. The crew also stressed that we needed to begin our ascent up the anchor line with 1500 psi left in our tanks.
Bob was getting impatient to get in the water, I think because he was hot and starting to feel sea sick again. He looked pale and was sweating. I tried to do the BWFAR check on the boat with him, but he pushed past me and headed for the water, saying we could do that check once we we got wet. (We never did.)
Once in the water I realized that the current was a bit stronger than I expected, so I was glad to have the system of lines available to find the wreck. Bob and I exchanged OK signs and agreed to descend. I descended to 15 feet and started working my way along the ropes toward the anchor line. I looked back at Bob to make sure he was on the line with me, but he was still above me, just 2 or 3 feet below the surface. He was directly under the back of the boat and almost got hit in the head several times as the boat moved up and down on the waves. I signaled to him to descent to avoid the boat. He gave me the "OK" signal, then let go of the line and started dropping straight down, passing me and the safety line. I watched in disbelief as he dropped below me, fighting the current as he went. Visibility was only 30 or 40 feet, so I quickly lost track of him and his bubbles.
"So much for Plan A," I thought to myself. What in the world was Bob thinking? He said he didn't want to get separated and then he descended without the anchor line and without me just 2 or 3 minutes into the dive. I wasn't going to follow him and fight that current. And I didn't even know if I could find the wreck without the anchor line. I thought about surfacing to tell the boat crew that Bob had not used the anchor line to descend and thus might be lost, but remembered that Plan B was to meet at the bottom of the anchor line. I decided to follow the anchor line down and look for him there. If he was not there, I would resurface and tell the crew.
The anchor line was tied into the wreck about 90 feet below the surface. As I got closer to the bottom, the wreck came into view. Amazingly, Bob was there, waiting for me. I gave him the OK sign, and he returned it. At this point I felt silly for worrying about him. "He has more experience than me," I thought. "I guess he knows what he's doing."
We swam into the current along the wreck for a minute and then stopped to take photos of some lion fish that were living on the wreck. Then I took a photo of Bob, and he took one of me. I motioned that we should keep moving forward on the wreck.
Bob held up 4 fingers. Four? Four hundred? Is he telling me that he has 400 psi left in his tank? That didn't seem likely since we had only been in the water for about 10 or 11 minutes at this point. I shrugged my shoulders to say that I didn't understand. He pointed to his pressure gauge, held up 4 fingers again, frantically made the out of air sign, then turned and swam as fast as he could for the anchor line. Yep, he only had 400 psi left in his tank. I tried to catch him and offer him my octopus, but he was too far ahead of me.
Well, you're supposed to stay with your buddy, and I wasn't going to stay on the wreck alone. Also, I was worried that Bob might have trouble on the way up, so I followed Bob to the anchor line and ascended as fast as my dive computer would allow. I lost sight of him about half way up the line since he was going up much faster than me, but then saw him again as I neared the surface. He swam right past the spare tank that was hanging from below the boat on a 15 foot rope and to the ladders on the back of the boat.
I held onto the line at 15 feet and did my safety stop. I could see Bob on the ladder, trying to remove his fins. His motions seemed a bit erratic. He dropped one of his weights, then his dive light and I watched them fall through a school of barracuda toward the bottom.
When I reached the surface, I held onto the line attached to the back of the boat. The crew was helping Bob remove his gear. I spit out my regulator and yelled, "Bob, you didn't do your 3-minute safety stop!" He had come up from 96 feet in about 1 minute. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Oh yeah, I guess I didn't." He said. One of the crew members asked him how deep he had gone. Bob didn't seem to know, so I checked my computer and yelled to the crew that my max depth had been 96 feet. The boat crew quickly offered him oxygen but he refused.

Once I was out of the water I asked him how he had run out of air so fast. He said his octopus was free flowing on the way down to the wreck and he couldn't get it to stop. However, I never saw a bunch of bubbles when I was above him as he descended. And, why did he give me the OK sign when we met on the wreck and continue the dive? Why not tell me right away that he was low on air and slowly head to the surface? I think another factor was that he sucked down his air too quickly because he was fighting the current on the way down instead of using the anchor line.
I must confess that I'm still a bit of a new diver, so I was a little frazzled by all of this. I decided to skip the second dive and stay with Bob on the boat.
Bob was diving with his own regulator and octopus. He said they were recently serviced by his local dive shop. He said when he got home he was going to flame them on the internet and hoped they would be shut down in a few weeks due to a lack of customers.
So, I have a few questions for ScubaBoard members:
1. Is there anything I should have done differently?
2. How did Bob not get the bends if he came up from 96 feet in about 1 minute?
3. Is it possible that he started having symptoms of the bends later that day or night after we got off the boat?
4. Will breathing Nitrox rather than 100% O2 prevent the bends in this situation?