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"People refer to this location a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," remarks a local guide, his exhalation creating wisps of mist in the crisp dusk atmosphere. "Numerous people have disappeared here, some say it's a portal to a parallel world." Marius is escorting a visitor on a evening stroll through what is often described as the globe's spookiest forest: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of ancient indigenous forest on the outskirts of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Stories of unusual events here extend back centuries – the grove is named after a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the distant past, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu achieved international attention in 1968, when a military technician called Emil Barnea photographed what he reported as a UFO hovering above a oval meadow in the middle of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and failed to return. But rest assured," he adds, addressing his guest with a grin. "Our guided walks have a flawless completion rate."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yogis, shamans, ufologists and paranormal investigators from around the globe, interested in encountering the strange energies believed to resonate through the forest.

Modern Threats

It may be one of the world's premier pilgrimage sites for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is under threat. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of more than 400,000 people, known as the tech capital of Eastern Europe – are advancing, and construction companies are advocating for authorization to remove the forest to erect housing complexes.

Aside from a few hectares containing regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, this woodland is lacking legal protection, but Marius hopes that the initiative he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will assist in altering this, motivating the authorities to appreciate the forest's value as a tourist attraction.

Chilling Events

As twigs and autumn leaves break and crackle beneath their boots, Marius describes numerous folk tales and claimed paranormal happenings here.

• A well-known account tells of a little girl disappearing during a family picnic, later to return five years later with no recollection of her experience, without aging a single day, her clothes without the slightest speck of dirt.
• Regular stories describe mobile phones and imaging devices mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Emotional responses include absolute fear to states of ecstasy.
• Certain individuals report seeing strange rashes on their skin, detecting disembodied whispers through the woodland, or sense palms pushing them, even when certain nobody is nearby.

Study Attempts

Although numerous of the tales may be hard to prove, numerous elements visibly present that is definitely bizarre. Everywhere you look are trees whose stems are curved and contorted into fantastical shapes.

Different theories have been suggested to clarify the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or typically increased electromagnetic fields in the soil explain their unusual development.

But formal examinations have turned up no satisfactory evidence.

The Famous Clearing

Marius's walks allow guests to engage in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the opening in the woods where Barnea took his renowned UFO photographs, he passes the traveler an electromagnetic field detector which registers electromagnetic fields.

"We're stepping into the most active section of the forest," he says. "See what you can find."

The plants abruptly end as they step into a perfect circle. The single plant life is the trimmed turf beneath our feet; it's apparent that it's not maintained, and appears that this bizarre meadow is wild, not the result of people.

The Blurred Line

The broader region is a location which fuels fantasy, where the division is indistinct between truth and myth. In traditional settlements belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, form-changing bloodsuckers, who rise from their graves to frighten nearby villages.

The novelist's famous fictional vampire is always connected with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith located on a stone formation in the Carpathian Mountains – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home".

But including legend-filled Transylvania – truly, "the land past the woods" – feels solid and predictable compared to the haunted grove, which appear to be, for factors nuclear, environmental or simply folkloric, a nexus for human imaginative power.

"In Hoia-Baciu," Marius states, "the line between truth and fantasy is extremely fine."