There’s a certain pull that drags us back to Bishops Cannings every year. Maybe it’s the Wiltshire Winter Camp that keeps calling us. We gather at the pub garden and it becomes our late-November sanctuary. Maybe it’s the weather that never quite behaves. Or maybe it’s the odd sense of tradition. It began on 29 November 2019 when Steve first rolled into The Crown Inn. On that day, he accidentally started an annual pilgrimage.
This year’s edition kicked off at 4:30 from Cambridgeshire with 136 miles of autumn road ahead. Spirits high. Shadows long. Fuel low. Duncan’s first stop was for petrol. His second stop involved wrestling with the lid of a pannier. It had suddenly decided to live an independent life. A fiddly little gremlin, refusing to reattach. By 4:55 we’d travelled a grand total of two miles. Always a strong start.
With the pannier finally persuaded back into cooperation, we cut a straight line through Northampton, Silverstone, Oxford and Swindon. The kind of ride that settles into a steady hum, where headlights carve gentle tunnels through the dark. We rolled into The Crown Inn just before 8pm, ready for warmth, food and familiar faces.
Except… the campsite was closed. Occupied. Claimed by sheep. No problem. Space was cleared in the pub garden for a pair of soggy-optimistic bikers. Next step? Food. The kitchen closed at 8. We were a few minutes too late. The barmaid worked a small miracle. She talked the chef into rustling up cheeseburger basket meals. A quiet triumph washed down with a pint while we waited for the landlord to return.
Two pints later it was time to unload the bikes and pitch tents. A mild night hung in the air, rain lurking like a stagehand waiting for the right cue. And sure enough, as we stepped back into the pub… the skies delivered. Perfect timing.
Inside, the place crackled with life. Locals buzzed around us, equal parts welcoming and mildly convinced we were unhinged for camping at the end of November. By the time last orders were called, the rain had drifted off. So we grabbed a nightcap and wandered to one of the benches in the garden. Soft air. Quiet roofs. The kind of setting where tomorrow’s route becomes a philosophical debate.
Cheddar Gorge, Stonehenge & Avebury Loop or Portland Bill? Three equally tempting loops. And with each nightcap, the decision grew both clearer and somehow more complicated. Eventually, the phones emerged for our classic Happy Bikers selfie. This time, we had a tripod and a bit of “high-tech” flair. I pressed the watch to trigger the shutter. We waited. We waited. Then, we discovered we’d filmed an accidental video instead. The unedited masterpiece is included below for your amusement.
Morning arrived in a gentle curtain of drizzle. The kettle boiled on our stove. Colin the landlord leaned out of the pub. He shouted that he already had one on. Like a beacon, we drifted inside and before long Karen was handing out bacon rolls. The world needs more KARENs like this one.
With 206 miles ahead, we set off on the Wiltshire to Portland Bill loop. We had planned breakfast at The Stable Tea Rooms. However, after eating bacon rolls, we were stuffed. We downgraded breakfast to a caffeine refuel. Good call that, because the day unfurled beautifully. We swept past Glastonbury Tor. We caught a rainbow so bright it felt painted fresh. We danced along roads that seemed custom-built for motorcycles.
Portland Bill greeted us mid-afternoon. Motorbike parking: free. Sea: choppy. Cake at the Lobster Pot: essential. That view out over the waves stitched the moment together.
The final leg back to Bishops Cannings was 87 dark, chilly miles. It was especially cold over Salisbury Plain where the cold nips your fingers like a playful fox. We returned around 7pm. We tucked the bikes away in a garage that the pub kindly offered. Then, we moved straight to dinner. The Steak & Ale pie came highly recommended… and absolutely lived up to the hype. Pure winter comfort on a plate.
The pub buzzed again with warmth and weekend energy. We kept it more civilised this time. Friday night’s enthusiasm for Kraken had put a dent in our stamina, and we wanted to be up for 9. That almost happened. It would have happened, if someone hadn’t packed their tent away with their glasses still inside. A classic Happy Bikers moment.
The homeward ride was planned at 240 miles, starting with a fuel range of… 5 miles. Next petrol: 15 miles. A little spicy. Worst case, I could siphon my stove fuel. We rolled in on fumes but not disaster.
First stop: the legendary “Big Bike” in Calne, a 20-foot sculpture made of scaffolding pipes by Toby Welsby. A mechanical titan towering over the roads.
Next: breakfast in Cirencester. We tried two local independents, both closed (Sundays, eh?). Third time lucky at Jesse Smith Farm Shop, where a sausage and bacon roll rekindled us. Plenty of bike-friendly parking too.
Into the Cotswolds we went, until road-closure signs appeared near Bibury. We… ignored them. One of us slipped through using a footpath. One of us did not. Some riders are compact, others are geological features. We reunited later in Bourton-on-the-Water.
Traffic around Stow slowed things down, so we trimmed 64 miles off the home stretch. This meant we could stop for a relaxed coffee and cake at Rebecca’s Kitchen in Malt Kiln Farm Shop. A soft finale to a busy trip.
When we left, rain returned for one last flourish. No drama. The final stop was home, and we carved through the weather with that end-of-journey rhythm. Bikes unloaded. Locked away. A weekend well spent.
Where next?
Who knows.
The Wiltshire to Portland Bill route is now available in our online shop. The same goes for the others we’ve tested, refined, and folded into our adventures. Check them out here
See you out there.