Solvang: Wine & True Crime Night Tour with Drinks

★★★★★★★★★★

4.97

(119 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

Someone slides a glass of deep red across the bar before I’ve even sat down. There’s a slasher movie poster on the wall behind her—kind of sets the mood. Our guide (I think her name was Jamie?) grins and asks if we’re ready for “something a little twisted.” She isn’t kidding. Between sips, she starts in on this story about a 70s serial killer who once passed through Solvang—her voice gets low and everyone leans in, even the bartender. I can smell something sweet and sharp from the next pour, maybe cherries or something darker. It’s weirdly perfect for a night like this.

We wander out into the village after that first tasting, still laughing about someone’s attempt at pronouncing “Syrah” (not me, but close). The air is cool—almost cold for California—and there’s this odd hush over Solvang at night except when we pass the karaoke bar where someone is absolutely butchering “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Jamie points out an old windmill and says it’s got its own secrets—she doesn’t tell us yet though. We stop by an antique shop window with creepy dolls inside; someone jokes they’re haunted too. I didn’t expect to feel so jumpy between laughs.

The second spot is all neon lights and wild tiki glasses, but instead of rum it’s some kind of wine cocktail that tastes like summer and trouble at the same time. Li behind the bar tells us it took ages to get right—she laughs when I try to guess what’s in it (“not even close,” she says). The stories get stranger here: hauntings, unsolved cases, stuff that makes you look over your shoulder as you walk back out onto the street. I keep thinking about how different Solvang feels at night; it’s not just Danish bakeries and sunshine anymore.

By the last stop my notes are messy and my head’s fuzzy—in a good way. We toast with sparkling wine while someone belts out karaoke (again), and Jamie finally spills what happened in that windmill decades ago. I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say I’ll never look at those postcard-perfect buildings quite the same way again. There’s something about sharing weird stories with strangers over wine that sticks with you—maybe more than any tasting note ever could.