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"Locals dub this location an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," explains an experienced guide, his breath creating wisps of condensation in the crisp evening air. "So many individuals have disappeared here, many believe it's a portal to a different realm." The guide is escorting a traveler on a night walk through commonly known as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of old-growth indigenous forest on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Reports of strange happenings here extend back a long time – the forest is called after a regional herder who is said to have vanished in the distant past, accompanied by his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu came to worldwide fame in 1968, when a military technician known as Emil Barnea captured on film what he claimed was a unidentified flying object hovering above a circular clearing in the heart of the forest.

Many came in here and failed to return. But no need to fear," he adds, addressing the visitor with a smile. "Our tours have a flawless completion rate."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has attracted yogis, traditional medicine people, ufologists and supernatural researchers from across the world, curious to experience the unusual forces said to echo through the forest.

Current Risks

Although it is a top global pilgrimage sites for supernatural fans, the grove is under threat. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of more than 400,000 people, known as the Silicon Valley of Eastern Europe – are encroaching, and real estate firms are campaigning for approval to clear the trees to construct residential buildings.

Aside from a small area home to regionally uncommon specific tree species, the forest is not officially protected, but Marius believes that the company he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will help to change that, encouraging the local administrators to appreciate the forest's value as a travel hotspot.

Chilling Events

As twigs and autumn leaves snap and crunch beneath their boots, Marius tells numerous local legends and alleged ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account describes a young child vanishing during a family outing, later to return five years later with no memory of her experience, having not aged a day, her garments shy of the slightest speck of dust.
• More common reports describe mobile phones and camera equipment unexpectedly failing on entering the woods.
• Feelings include full-blown dread to moments of euphoria.
• Certain individuals state noticing bizarre skin irritations on their skin, hearing ghostly voices through the woodland, or experience fingers clutching them, even when sure they are alone.

Research Efforts

Although numerous of the stories may be hard to prove, there is much clearly observable that is certainly unusual. All around are plants whose stems are curved and contorted into unusual forms.

Various suggestions have been proposed to account for the abnormal growth: strong gales could have bent the saplings, or inherently elevated electromagnetic fields in the earth explain their unusual development.

But research studies have turned up no satisfactory evidence.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's tours allow visitors to take part in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the opening in the woods where Barnea captured his famous UFO photographs, he hands his guest an ghost-hunting device which detects electromagnetic fields.

"We're stepping into the most active area of the forest," he says. "Try to detect something."

The plants abruptly end as the group enters into a perfect circle. The single plant life is the low vegetation beneath the ground; it's apparent that it hasn't been mown, and looks that this bizarre meadow is natural, not the result of landscaping.

Fact Versus Fiction

This part of Romania is a place which stirs the imagination, where the division is unclear between truth and myth. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to haunt regional populations.

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

But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – truly, "the place beyond the forest" – seems real and understandable versus these eerie woods, which seem to be, for factors related to radiation, atmospheric or purely mythical, a center for fantasy projection.

"Inside these woods," the guide states, "the division between truth and fantasy is remarkably blurred."