Had a couple of “Buggah!” moments lately, which I will also submit to Garry for (possible) inclusion in the newsletter for those Luddites that don't use the forum.  I am a great believer that sharing such moments can help other folk to avoid the same moments, so I offer them up for your entertainment (?) and consideration during this peak riding period.  Both these moments have common factors: cumulative fatigue, loss or lack of concentration, failure to moderate behaviour at early signs of trouble.  There were two different outcomes.  One had a very good outcome due to great cage driver reaction and conditioned reflex of a sleepy but well rehearsed rider and more luck than was deserved, the other was just more luck than was deserved.#1: Perpetrator - Bwucie.Coming back off a weekend away after a hard week/month/lifetime's work, got off the demanding roads and onto River Road North of Huntly, heading for the final rest stop before home (planned for Mercer), went to sleep, and went straight ahead across the centreline on a very slight left hand curve.  Woke up about 18 inches on the wrong side of the line, looking at an oncoming car. Buggah!Before even thinking about anything, my head snapped left and the eyes set on the tarmac at the extreme left hand side of the road, the left hand pushed a handful of countersteer in, and the bike levitated back to the correct side of the road.  From my peripheral vision I could see the cage veering to his/her left away from the centreline.  I (undeservedly) lived to tell the tail because I have run this scenario in my head thousands of times, and my reflexes could run the responses before I had time to think about it.  And the cage driver was better than average, got the important half of his/her response correct, went left (but didn't scrub any speed).  At the point we crossed there was enough separation to drive a bus down the centreline between us, but things could have been way messier if I'd zedded off for a second longer.  None of the riders behind me even noticed the incident, so they weren't exactly wide-eyed and bushy-tailed either: pretty much locked into lemming mode and just following the leader.Major mistake I made?  Should have made a two or three minute stretch stop at Huntly.  The very reason I always stop a group ride short of home is to refresh people before they enter the "Everest Death Zone" of motorcycling - "Boy, I'm getting knackered, but it's only twenty more k's to home, I can handle that."  I was actually thinking, "Boy I'm knackered, but it's only another 20 k's to Mercer."  Biking for Dummies, Volume 1, Chapter 1.#2: Perpetrator - at this stage, still A. N. Onymous, until things are squared off with the partner, who WILL be displeased.The rider has been incredibly busy lately, and even to get to the start of the ride had been flat out at home to sort things out that needed doing, so tired, harried, really glad to get on the bike for a couple of hours and relax.  On Back Miranda Road, was riding number two behind me, and, as I entered the sweeping right hander and took the last look in the mirrors before identifying and concentrating on my entry point, about 30 - 40 metres behind me.  It was a benign corner, I just rolled through it in top gear, power neutral, at 100 kph, and when I had seen my exit line clear, I took another look in the mirrors in time to see the second rider at a point of the road where even Dr Rossi could not have pulled off a comeback.  Buggah!  It was like a Mack Sennet cartoon watching his helmet get closer and closer to the ground level as he road straight off the outside edge of the corner into the weeds.I immediately scrubbed off the speed, hit the hazards, u-turned and shot back to the apex of the corner to defend the accident site, arriving just as the fourth and subsequent riders arrived.  The third rider rider went past the scene without noticing anything (he was still doing his u-turn after seeing me coming back at him), and if I had not seen it happen, the whole group would have done the same. All that was to see from the road was one tyre track through the phalaris and tall fescue on the side of the road.  The bike and rider were invisible in the blackberries well below the road.  We would not have noticed we were short a bike until the next planned stop, still 5 kms ahead, if I hadn't watched it unfold.  Luck number 1.The rider surfaced under his own steam, up the bank and back on the road, before any of us had even gotten off our machines.  Of all the bad ways to get off the road, he had picked the softest option, a big clump of blackberries, which make an excellent impact absorber.  The bike was suspended in the blackberries above two and a half metres of fresh air, resting gently against the cow-cocky's fence.  The rider had landed in a little void space underneath the machine, and was pretty much unmarked.  Luck number 2.The bike was unrecoverable by manpower, but was fetched back onto the road with the cocky's front end loader, a long length of 25mm braided nylon cordage, two bowlines-on-the-bight tied by ex-cocky Bwucie and one tied by the cocky.  The bike was pretty damn straight, although some of the indicators and handlebar switchgear were a touch sad.  And it ran, and was rideable.  Luck number 3.The rider really had no clue what happened.  The best he could come up with was along the lines of, "Don't really know, the front sort of felt, well.................. I might have been in the wrong gear?  I was only doing between 80 and 90.  I'm not sure."What happened?  We don't know exactly.  Was he sight-seeing, just lack of concentration?  A micro sleep?  Whatever, he missed his entry point, and had misjudged his speed.  When he realised it was going pear-shaped, he obviously didn't help his bike.  He didn't scrub any speed, didn't countersteer, and most importantly didn't get his head round and eyes looking where he should have been going.  That, almost certainly, would have fixed the problem, with only a minor pucker in the pants.  He probably locked onto a target on the side of the road, and drilled it exactly.  Very fortunately, below that target was the blackberry patch.  I am always concerned that if the rider can't appreciate that (almost certain) train of events, then they are still capable of repeating the scenario.  Brother Rincewind has accused us of "overthinking" our riding, but those mind rehearsals and over-the-cafe-coffee-cup-discussions keep us alert to the survival skills we need to survive.The group's reaction was excellent, site was secured, recovery was effected, extra people were cleared from the site to a safer point when no longer required, none of which was Luck number 4: this was a group of riders that has discussed, work-shopped and thought about what to do if it goes tits up.  Old infantry aphorism: time spent in training or reconnaissance is never time wasted.  Go team!Due to time lost we shortened our planned ride to Waihi.  Perpetrator #2 headed off by himself on his still functional farm bike to rendezvous with his partner.  It wouldn't have been a fun trip.  Various body parts would have been starting to stiffen up and hurt, and he would have been full on trying to invent reasons for her indoors as to why he'd found it necessary to decorate the Iron Horse with copious gaffer tape.  Still, like Granny always said, "All's well that, well, ends."  (And we have some great photos for when we can go public!!!!)