Dave Briggs, a legend among enthusiasts of extreme events in South Africa. It's not just about madness is a rollicking account of various exploits, sometimes hilarious, sometimes hair-raising, told in episodic, campfire-tales style, to bring- as he puts it- some fun into our lives, while it also asks and answers, the question "Why?"

So fasten your seat belt and enjoy the raw energy of a sometimes bumpy ride with a pilot who is equally ready to face the challenge of the mighty Colorado River as to express his own frank views on the world he sees around him.

It was from the sport of flying that Dave decided to write what is still today the largest ebook supplied on disk in full color (and printable on most home pcs- (see library on this site) on the sport of micro flight (micro lights, paragliding and powered paragliding). It was this cost effective option of ebook publishing that launched this comprehensive book world wide into virtually every corner of the globe.

From here it was a natural progression to document in ‘hard cover or conventional’ book format, a humorous account of all his adventures involving many of the extreme sports Dave participated in (see library on this site). Battling to find an appropriate publisher and not willing to part with their high commission fees together with little control over the publishing process, he launched himself together with Avril Hattingh into the process of self publishing. It is this journey together with what they have experienced that is described on the self publishing CD found in the library section of this site.

Pg 11 Foreword
14 Introduction
15 Human existence, adrenalin, endorphins & junkies
22 Ghosts
25 Down the Congo in the middle of the night
31 Kayaking over a waterfall & trapped in a cave
35 “Hair-raising”
37 Rafting a flooded gorge
42 A close shave
44 My relationship with upturned cars, fences & crayfish
48 Other road hazards
52 A typical Friday afternoon
54 Upside down motorcycles & bicycles
57 A rope, a bridge & a long way down
62 South Africans and their rock-throwing abilities
64 A midnight paddle
67 Contract flying – early days “It's all about publicity!”
79 “My room's gone!”
80 The theft 'of' an aeroplane
83 My other episode with seawater
84 Other water-related encounters
88 The day I speared a shark wilderness
89 Dolphins & whales
95 The ricksha experience
98 Underwater wrecks & artefacts off East Africa
100 One of my closest encounters with death
104 Poachers, dynamite fishing & narcotics
108 There's a rocket in my hair
110 Flying down Africa
114 Airborne activities & hooked upside down on a guide wire
117 Hanging from an electrified pole
119 Blown out to sea revenge
128 An accident-prone family?
130 Our universe & days gone by
136 Mountain biking in Tasmania
137 “Don't worry mate I saw a nostril hair twitch”.
140 A kangaroo on my bicycle
143 My first microlight lesson
144 Flying out in the Indian Ocean islands
146 The infant days of microlighting & a few encounters
152 Circumnavigating South Africa
160 Microlight meets barbwire and fence
164 My earlier attempts at tandem flying & more shrubbery
170 Encounters with fishing gaffs, bedrock & ensnared animals
177 Monstrous waves, suicidal surf & interesting epics out at sea
184 Fishing lines, spanners and banners
188 Rotating backboards & other detached components
190 The mystery of my disappearing propeller
192 Test flying in Australia
194 Kangaroo & pig hunters
198 There's a pig in my freezer
200 Crocodiles & hippos on the Zambezi & other rivers
205 Tree-dwelling carnivorous ants on the Nile & Africa's untamed
209 Augrabies, Blyde, Grand Canyon & the “Duzi” canoe marathon
121 Other spectacular accidents and the day I detached my foot from my leg
220 High-flying arachnids
221 Paraglider & propeller meet
223 The day I set my flying machine alight
225 Sand kiting & canine beasts
230 There's an eagle in my line
231 An unglamorous way to die!
233 Africa and a deadly little beast!
238 More “life in Africa” encounters - Monkey business & a Gecko's
243 Hitchhiker!
245 Food for thought
247 Conclusion

There's a rocket in my hair!

As any person involved in the entertainment or instructional industry will tell you, a vast amount of time is spent with clients, students or visiting personnel. I remember a time when I was teaching diving that a group of us (mostly visiting divers and students) went to the local pub down the road to celebrate the successful completion of their open-water dive course. This particular pub was frequented primarily by tourists with various groups and diving schools scattered throughout. During the course I used to keep a note of all misdemeanors that had occurred during the training period, and once at a venue such as this, make students pay the necessary forfeit. This usually entailed downing a considerable amount of the local home brew. This ferment was usually pure unrefined sugarcane alcohol or a similar liquid with an equally objectionable nauseating taste and effect, drunk through a snorkel, which had a funnel on the end, into which this liquid was copiously poured. The victim had to wear a diving mask while completing the forfeit, which made the task of drinking and breathing fairly tricky. At some stage towards the end of the evening someone produced a Guy Fawkes rocket which when ignited would career up into the sky and explode in a cascade of brilliant sparks, colours and associated bangs. This, I thought, could only be fun, so without hesitation I lit it. Well, you can imagine what ensued within the confined area of the pub. The rocket-propelled missile launched itself across the room towards our opposition school and their students, bouncing in a torrent of sparks and hisses in a magnificent display of pyrotechnics, while discharging itself off walls, tables and anything else in its trajectory. Unfortunately, though incredibly humorously, it came to rest still exploding and discharging its combustible entrails, firmly implanted in the mane of a female who had enough hair to support a number of eagles' nests. If you have ever lit your arm hairs or any other hairy part of your anatomy, you will well know how combustible collagen is. This unfortunate visitor was clearly on fire, with everyone's focus now firmly on the tail end of the rocket still protruding from her mop of permed hair.

While people patted, banged and smothered the igniting rocket, some clever spark eventually poured a full jug of beer over her head in an attempt to extinguish what was originally envisaged to be the high point celebrating the successful completion of a dive course. This was incredibly hilarious and our entire side of the pub collapsed in absolutely uncontrolled hysterics. Undoubtedly it was the funniest thing I had seen for a long time. No malicious harm was meant, no injuries were sustained and to our astonishment very little of her hair was in fact burned. The most difficult part of this adventure was attempting to placate the opposition school who were convinced we had openly provoked and deliberately attempted to tarnish their credibility.

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