Historic Ghost Tour - Dahlonega Walking Tours

07/24/2025

We will talk about The Fudge Factory as well as other Hallmark movie locations on our special walking tour this Saturday July 26th. Book online at www.dahlonegawalkingtours.com.

Throwing back to October 2016 when Hollywood came to town! The Dahlonega Square was transformed for Hallmark Channel's "Christmas in Homestead" and our shop was the perfect backdrop for Homestead's local bakery! We had a great day filming and hosting the cast and crew! Hollywood Magic=Christmas in July

07/12/2025

Christmas in July Walking Tour – July 26 at 6:30 PM
Celebrate the magic of the season a little early with our Christmas in July Walking Tour! Step into the charm of Dahlonega’s past as you stroll beyond the Square to hear festive stories of how this small town has celebrated Christmas through the years. Discover the real-life locations featured in beloved holiday movies and enjoy the rich history that makes Dahlonega feel like a Hallmark postcard. It’s a nostalgic, candlelit journey through a town that truly shines at Christmastime.

06/28/2025

The Tugaloo Masacre — Where the First Fire Turned on Itself

Long before the roads of Stephens County cut across cotton fields and timberlands, long before a highway sign marked Old Tugaloo Town on a bend of Highway 123, the banks where the Toccoa Creek folds into the Savannah River were a living covenant between earth, people, and flame. The Cherokee called it Ama Tawaghi — “place of rolling waters.”

Here, in the hush between river and ridge, the Keetoowah priesthood once kindled a sacred hearth whose embers told the people who they were.¹

Long before the English arrived with barrels of gunpowder and ledgers to tally skins and debts, the Keetoowah — the “Mother Town” people — guarded this mound at Tugaloo as a place of beginnings. They said the Creator had placed the first flame here on a hill above the confluence, where the land rose in a low earthen platform shaped by generations of ceremonial building.

Archaeologists digging under kudzu and plow-scarred pasture found the shape of that story buried in soil layers: Arrett, Rembert, Tugalo — three cultural pulses spanning half a millennium before the first Carolina trader ever shouldered a pack up the Old Cherokee Path.²

Over that fire, the Keetoowah sang the world back into balance every season. This was the work of the conjurors and the “priestly cult” — men and women alike, keepers of song and symbol, whose power outlasted any single war chief’s fame.³

The sacred fire in the mound village hearth mirrored the fire in the sky. James Mooney, listening to the echoes of old Keetoowah testimony, called this mound and hearth the axis mundi — the pivot where the three worlds met: the upper world of the spirits, the middle world of humankind, and the dark river world below.⁴

To violate that hearth was to risk unmaking the world’s fragile seams. Yet the world was unraveling fast when the winter of 1715 approached. The Yamasee War, which had begun as a desperate push by southeastern nations to evict Carolina’s exploitative traders, left the backcountry smoldering with half-broken alliances and embassies crisscrossing hunting trails that smelled of gun smoke and rumor. Amid this shifting ground, a delegation from the Lower Creek — some of them Coweta men — crossed the Savannah to meet the Cherokee at Tugaloo. Their leader, Chigelly, would later claim they carried the olive branch: peace with the English if it could be had, and a renewal of kinship with the Cherokee towns that once traded furs and sacred to***co on equal ground.⁵

But others whispered the Creek had come with other intentions. Hidden just out of sight, five hundred braves camped in the shadows of the pine barrens — some said they waited to strike the English should talks fail. Among the Cherokee who gathered in the council house at Tugaloo, doubts grew like a worm in the council fire’s wood. The conjuror of Tugaloo, Charity Hague, read dreams that showed the smoke of the council turning backward, curling down into the mound’s roots instead of rising to the sky.⁶ This was an omen that the Creek’s wampum belts were poisoned.

On the night of the council, as the fire cracked on the hearthstone, the old law still held: no blood must ever stain the town house. To kill a guest beneath the thatch was to break the covenant the first flame embodied — the promise that any stranger who stepped into that circle did so with the Creator’s witness. As Swanton recorded in his accounts of southern council diplomacy, when a visiting chief entered the circle, the hosts laid bows and arrows at his feet — the bond of peace.⁷

But balance can be undone by fear as much as by conquest. The conjuror’s dream, the hidden braves in the trees, and the desperate calculations of the Carolina traders all fed a single, terrible conclusion: the fire must be fed not with to***co, but with blood. In the dark, the Cherokee rose. Eleven Creek leaders fell where they sat, their blood seeping into the sacred earth packed hard by generations of ceremonial feet. Two others were dragged out alive. One was Hastings’s Friend — a Creek headman who had allied himself with Theophilus Hastings, the British factor already planning to claim Tugaloo as a trade post. The conjurors made an example of him. The second prisoner they turned over to the English, who dealt their own frontier justice.⁸
When the blood dried on the council floor, the story was not over. Word spread fast that the powerful Creek leader Brims had ordered revenge. In the days that followed, Cherokee scouts and Carolina militia patrolled the river’s bends, searching for Brims’s rumored war party. They found only cold campfires and the hush of canebrakes where the warriors had slipped back across the Chattahoochee. To seal the new loyalty born in that slaughter, the Carolina council shipped two hundred trade muskets up the old trail. Barrels of powder and shot soon lined the walls where the sacred flame once burned.⁹

So the first fire of Tugaloo became the first arsenal. Theophilus Hastings took charge of the trade house, measuring out lead and liquor. John Milbourne, the appointed gunsmith, mended flintlocks for Cherokee war parties now sworn to guard the British frontier. The conjuror’s circle had given way to the iron law of debt and the cold promise of musket fire.¹⁰

Yet the cost could not be counted only in powder kegs. For the Creek, the massacre at Tugaloo demanded a Mourning War — a cycle of ritual retribution older than any trader’s ledger. As Grantham records in Creek emergence myths, when Crawfish dove into the first watery chaos to pull up earth for the people to stand on, he showed that chaos must always be reborn into balance through action.¹¹ For the Creek, the betrayal at Tugaloo was a break in the cosmic surface. To heal it, blood must answer blood. For thirty years, that balance rolled through Georgia’s pine ridges like a hidden river: Cherokee farms burned by Creek raiders at midnight, Creek cornfields torched by Cherokee return parties at dawn. The Coosa-Tugaloo Warpath — once a trade artery for deer hides and wampum — now carried scalping parties on secret trails through the canebrakes.
James Mooney, writing when the last embers of Keetoowah memory flickered under the weight of the reservation system, put it simply: the Cherokee had learned to “wield loyalty and betrayal with equal skill when the time required.”¹² Tugaloo proved the truth of that hard lesson.

The council fire that had once joined kin and guest had turned inward — and when the fire turned inward, it could consume everything it was meant to protect.

Today, there are only hints left: a granite historical marker at the roadside, a line in a county guidebook noting “the most ancient town in these parts,” the quiet roll of the Toccoa’s brown water past rusting bridge piers.

Sometimes, when the river runs high and the wind is just right, an elder might say you can hear the old drum beneath the splash — the voice of the first fire that was never meant to die. And in that soft murmur, Georgia’s red earth remembers how a people once broke their own sacred bond, not because they had forgotten the fire’s promise — but because the world closing around them left them no other choice but to set it burning from within.

Eldridge, Keetoowah Society and Priestly Cult at Tugaloo, unpublished field notes, p. 4.

Hlophe, Archaeological Phases of Tugaloo Mound, site report, p. 17.

William G. McLoughlin, Cherokee Renascence in the New Republic (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), see note on sacred fire traditions.

Eldridge, Keetoowah Society, p. 4.

James Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee, 19th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1900), 395.

Steven C. Hahn, The Invention of the Creek Nation, 1670–1763 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2004), 89–90.

Robert Cartledge, Old Tugaloo Town Marker, Georgia Historical Marker Database, accessed archival note 1984.

Hahn, Invention of the Creek Nation, 89–90.

Hahn, Invention of the Creek Nation, 90.

Richard Gossett and Paul Tabor, Tugaloo and the Cherokee-British Trading Post (Georgia Historical Society Papers, 1984), 57.

Bill Grantham, Creation Myths and Legends of the Creek Indians (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002), 14.

Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee, 13.

06/25/2025

A ghost tour is a great way to learn about local history and to support a local business!

05/26/2025

Today we honor our fallen veterans. This is a photo taken a while back, but the image just says so much.

Talk to anyone in my business and they'll all say the same thing: No matter how long you write stories and put them in the newspaper, you are never really sure which ones are going to strike a nerve.What you think might be a Pulitzer-quality epic might draw only a nice call from Mom, while a simple....

05/23/2025

Thanks Amber Nagleand Georgia Magazine for including us in an article about walkable history tours in Georgia!

05/21/2025

A Fresh New Chapter at the Wine Room

Exciting things are happening at the wine room!

We’re stepping into a season of renewal—with a fresh vision, upgraded wine selections, and a renewed commitment to creating one of the most welcoming, unique experiences in Dahlonega.

This space has a rich history, and now we’re building on that foundation with:
• A new and curated wine list featuring quality local and regional selections
• Plans for a cozy kitchen addition to bring in delicious bites and perfect pairings
• A refreshed layout and updated seating to elevate your visit
• A clearer brand and online presence so it’s easier than ever to find and follow us
• A renewed focus on hospitality, storytelling, and local connection

We know there’s work ahead—and that’s the exciting part. Every bottle, every detail, and every improvement is part of something bigger: reimagining the wine room as a vibrant, soulful destination for locals and visitors alike.

Whether you’ve sipped with us before or you’ve yet to discover what’s upstairs—we’d love to welcome you soon.

Here’s to new beginnings, great wine, and a bright future.

—Jeremy

05/18/2025

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The Ghost Town of Auraria, Georgia was the heart of America’s first major gold rush in 1828! Within a few years, it grew into a booming mining town with over 1,000 residents, dozens of saloons and hotels, and even a proposal for a U.S. mint. Its name comes from “aurum,” the Latin word for gold. Auraria briefly rivaled nearby Dahlonega for prominence, but when Dahlonega won the county seat and gold was discovered in California in 1848, most miners moved west and the town quickly faded.

While it's a ghost town these days, you can still visit and see Woody’s Store, a weathered wooden building from the 1800s, plus scattered ruins of old cabins, stone chimneys, and mining equipment. You can't enter any of the structures, but just viewing them from the outside is well worth it! Auraria was also the hometown of one of Denver’s founders, who named part of that city “Auraria” in its honor. The site is free to visit during daylight hours. Tucked off a quiet country road, it’s easy to miss...but if you stop and explore, you’ll find one of Georgia’s most fascinating forgotten towns.

05/01/2025

Congratulations to Dahlonega Fudge Factory on 43 years in business!

04/27/2025

Elijah Clarke and the TransOconee Republic:

In the waning years of the 18th century, Georgia found itself embroiled in a complex web of frontier conflict, political ambition, and international intrigue. One of the most audacious and controversial episodes of this era was the short-lived Trans-Oconee Republic, a bold but doomed effort led by General Elijah Clarke.

The year 1794 saw General Elijah Clarke and some of his local associates involved in the French intrigue set in motion by Genet, the new French Republican minister. Genet had landed in Charleston in 1793 and was introduced to the leading citizens of Georgia and South Carolina as a democratic hero. Georgia had long been threatened by the Spanish in East and West Florida and their allies, the Creek Indians. The Spanish had supplied arms and ammunition for attacks along the Oconee and had, in 1794, invaded the Tallassee country in the south, an area that had changed hands between the Georgians and the Indians multiple times through treaties (Coulter & Grice, 1940, p. 120). Spain maintained spies in the Indian country along the Georgia frontier, likely even within the settled parts of the state.

Genet proposed to raise an army to fight the Spanish and arrived well supplied with blank commissions and money. The funds he used came from payments made by the United States on its Revolutionary War debt to France. Given France's invaluable assistance during the American Revolution and the strong pro-French sentiment following the recent success of the French Revolution, Genet received a warm welcome. Many of his proposals mirrored actions France had undertaken to help the United States achieve independence (Hunt, 1898, p. 35).

Meanwhile, the Federal government had been reluctant to aid Georgia against the near-constant Indian attacks in 1793. The assistance provided was inadequate and short-lived, leaving frontier families to spend much of their time in forts. Ultimately, the state had to take over its own defense. Georgia forces pursued the Indians beyond the Oconee, as federal troops were legally restricted from crossing the Temporary Boundary. Despite being composed of the same people, the distinction in command created frustration. By 1796, the Greene County militia had still not been paid for their service in 1793, as shown in the Grand Jury presentments (George Mathews to Timothy Barnard, 11 August 1794, LTB, 240+).

The governor had pledged his salary to pay them, but it was not enough.
Dissatisfaction with federal neglect ran high on the Georgia frontier. At the same time, figures like Thomas Jefferson, Governor Moultrie of South Carolina, and many prominent Georgia officials sympathized with Genet’s cause. The Georgia Legislature hosted a grand banquet and parade in Augusta to honor the minister, complete with a fifteen-gun salute, orchestrated by Augustus C. G. Elholm (Hunt, 1898, p. 36).

The French sought someone to recruit upper Georgians for their campaign and convinced General Elijah Clarke to accept a commission as a Major General with a salary of $10,000 to organize forces in Georgia and South Carolina. Other notable figures of the time, including George Rogers Clark, also entered the French service.

A New Republic on the Oconee

Elijah Clarke’s vision extended beyond merely aiding the French; he sought to establish an independent government west of the Oconee River in what was undisputed Creek territory. By November 1793, recruitment was already underway in Greene County, Georgia, with reports of soldiers enlisting under the command of Colonel Kerr of Karr’s Bluff and Colonel Joseph Philips. Captain Oliver and Captain Cook were among those leading battalions in the effort (James Seagrove to George Mathews, 7 December 1795, CILTT, pt. 2:461). The movement was gaining traction, and by February 1794, Clarke resigned his commission in the Georgia militia to dedicate himself fully to the cause.

In February, Clarke led a group of settlers and soldiers to colonize the west bank of the river. By fall, they had built forts, declared themselves an independent nation, and drafted a constitution. The settlements quickly grew, and tensions with both the federal government and Native American tribes escalated.

Reports from Creek leaders, such as Cussataw King White Bird, indicated rising violence, with Georgia Dragoons allegedly responsible for the deaths of Creek warriors. In response, Clarke and his forces fortified their positions, establishing at least six forts across today’s Greene, Morgan, Baldwin, and Putnam Counties. Governor Mathews, deeply concerned, toured the Georgia frontier forts, ordering new fortifications at Hurricane Shoals on the Oconee, Flat Shoals on the Middle River, and Philip’s Mill Shoals on the Oconee, among others (CILTT, pt. 2:461).

By March 1794, Clarke had fully mobilized, convincing soldiers from Franklin County and Little River to abandon their posts and join him at Fort Phillips. He seized the fort, amassing over 100 men, before marching south to St. Mary’s to meet with French agents. There, he was ceremoniously presented with brass swords, further cementing his commitment to the French cause. However, while Clarke and his men were away, their settlements came under attack, prompting a hasty return to the Oconee frontier.

The Fall of the Trans-Oconee Republic

By September, General Twiggs reached the Clark Settlement and read his orders. In response, Clarke took a poll, and his men voted to stay and defend the area with their lives. Meanwhile, Georgia Dragoons under Fouche were directed to prevent supplies and trade from reaching the settlement. Settlers were to be arrested in accordance with the law and turned over to the nearest magistrate judge. The state called up 600 militia men to confront Clarke’s forces (Hunt, 1898, p. 130).
Despite mounting pressure, Clarke’s men refused to relinquish control of Phillips Fort. With only 30 men inside, supplies dwindled—ammunition was running low, and food was nearly gone.

By October, Clarke fully realized the severity of the situation. Facing overwhelming opposition from both the State and Federal Governments, he wrote to General Jared Irwin, stating that he would remove his people and their property from the Trans-Oconee Republic. However, as the settlers departed, several were fired upon by state and local troops. Nearly all of Clarke’s forts were demolished by Fouche’s forces. The final holdout, Fort Defiance on the Oconee, opposite Fort Phillips, refused to surrender. Adam Carson, its commander, and 25 others were ultimately arrested, though charges were later dropped (Hunt, 1898, p. 132).

By November, Clarke’s rebellion had crumbled. Many Georgia militia members deserted, unwilling to fight their fellow settlers. Governor Mathews issued court-martial summons for Clarke’s remaining officers, but resistance had effectively ended (Hunt, 1898, p. 134). The withdrawal of Clarke’s men left the Oconee frontier vulnerable, leading to renewed Native American raids until the Treaty of Colerain in 1796.

Aftermath and Legacy

Though short-lived, the Trans-Oconee Republic marked a significant moment in Georgia’s history. Clarke’s actions challenged federal authority, exposed deep divisions between settlers and the government, and reflected the broader geopolitical tensions of the era. With High Shoals, Apalachee, and Fort Republic evacuated, Native American depredations continued on the Oconee frontier. The legacy of these conflicts persisted until the Treaty of Colerain in 1796 finally brought a fragile peace to the region.

04/24/2025

Tour goers often mention how friendly our town is.

If you need a little warmth, whether from the weather or the people, you will fall in love with these 11 hospitable towns.

04/16/2025

In the wilderness of what is now Winder, Georgia, during a time of great conflict between the Cherokee and Creek nations, a mysterious and tragic story began to unfold—one that would echo through local legend for generations.

During one of the battles between the Cherokees and Creeks, a white man on a white horse appeared along the edge of the battlefield, carrying with him his wife and infant daughter. His wife wore a glittering necklace of five beaded strands that reached her waist, shimmering in the sun. In the chaos of the fighting, the white man rode into the fray. Before he vanished into the smoke and bloodshed, the woman handed her baby and her necklace to a nearby Indian woman for safekeeping—and was never seen again.

The Indian woman who took the child was killed in the fighting, but the child survived. Her crying and the brilliance of the necklace caught the attention of a Creek chief, who rescued the infant and brought her to his teepee. There, Creek women raised the child as one of their own.

Twenty years passed. The girl, now grown, was said to be the most beautiful Indian woman ever seen in the region. A white man who saw her fell in love, and when he asked about her origin, the chief revealed the truth: she was not born of their tribe, but had been adopted after the battle. Her parents, he said, were a Spanish man and woman who had come to the area decades earlier—noble in blood, with the father believed to be a descendant of the Spanish hero El Cid. The necklace the baby wore was said to contain jewels from the Spanish crown.

Known by some in oral tradition as Bana, the young woman lived a happy life. Though her final resting place is unknown, legend holds that the necklace—valued at between two and five million dollars—was buried with her somewhere within a two-mile radius of the courthouse in Winder.

References (APA 7th Edition)

Smith, M. A. (1983). Beadland to Barrow: A history of Barrow County, Georgia, from the earliest times to the present. Georgia Printing Company.

Wilson, G. J. N. (1914). The early history of Jackson County, Georgia: The writings of the late G.J.N. Wilson, embracing some of the early history of Jackson County. Elberton: Goss Printing Company.