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"They call this place an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," states a local guide, his breath producing wisps of mist in the cold evening air. "So many people have vanished here, some say it's a portal to another dimension." The guide is escorting a visitor on a night walk through what is often described as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of primeval local woods on the outskirts of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Accounts of bizarre occurrences here extend back a long time – the grove is called after a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the long ago, accompanied by two hundred animals. But Hoia-Baciu achieved international attention in 1968, when a military technician named Emil Barnea photographed what he described as a flying saucer hovering above a oval meadow in the centre of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and failed to return. But don't worry," he continues, addressing his guest with a grin. "Our guided walks have a perfect safety record."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has brought in meditation experts, spiritual healers, ufologists and paranormal investigators from worldwide, curious to experience the unusual forces said to echo through the forest.

Modern Threats

Despite being a top global hotspots for supernatural fans, this woodland is facing danger. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of more than 400,000 people, known as the innovation center of eastern Europe – are advancing, and real estate firms are advocating for authorization to cut down the woods to build apartment blocks.

Aside from a few hectares housing area-specific specific tree species, this woodland is lacking legal protection, but Marius hopes that the company he co-founded – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will assist in altering this, encouraging the government officials to appreciate the forest's significance as a visitor destination.

Spooky Experiences

As twigs and autumn leaves split and rustle beneath their footwear, the guide tells numerous folk tales and reported ghostly incidents here.

• One famous story recounts a young child vanishing during a family picnic, only to rematerialise half a decade later with no memory of the events, having not aged a day, her clothes lacking the smallest trace of dust.
• Frequent accounts describe mobile phones and imaging devices mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Reactions range from complete terror to feelings of joy.
• Some people report seeing bizarre skin irritations on their arms, detecting ghostly voices through the woodland, or feel fingers clutching them, even when sure they are alone.

Research Efforts

Although numerous of the accounts may be impossible to confirm, numerous elements before my eyes that is undeniably strange. Throughout the area are vegetation whose bases are curved and contorted into unusual forms.

Different theories have been given to account for the misshapen plants: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or typically increased radiation levels in the earth explain their crooked growth.

But formal examinations have turned up insufficient proof.

The Notorious Meadow

The guide's walks permit visitors to engage in a little scientific inquiry of their own. Upon reaching the meadow in the forest where Barnea took his well-known UFO images, he hands the traveler an EMF meter which detects energy patterns.

"We're stepping into the most energetic section of the forest," he comments. "Discover what's here."

The plants suddenly stop dead as they step into a perfect circle. The single plant life is the short grass beneath their shoes; it's clear that it's not maintained, and appears that this unusual opening is wild, not the creation of landscaping.

Fact Versus Fiction

The broader region is a location which stirs the imagination, where the division is blurred between fact and folklore. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – supernatural, shapeshifting bloodsuckers, who rise from their graves to haunt local communities.

The novelist's famous fictional vampire is always connected with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a Saxon monolith perched on a cliff edge in the Carpathian Mountains – is actively advertised as "the count's residence".

But including legend-filled Transylvania – actually, "the place beyond the forest" – feels solid and predictable versus these eerie woods, which give the impression of being, for causes radioactive, atmospheric or entirely legendary, a nexus for creative energy.

"Within this forest," the guide comments, "the division between reality and imagination is very thin."