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"People refer to this location an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," states a tour guide, his breath forming clouds of vapor in the cold night air. "Numerous visitors have gone missing here, many believe there's a gateway to a different realm." The guide is escorting a traveler on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of primeval local woods on the outskirts of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Accounts of unusual events here date back a long time – the forest is titled for a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the far-off times, along with 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu achieved global recognition in 1968, when an army specialist known as Emil Barnea captured on film what he described as a flying saucer suspended above a round opening in the heart of the forest.

Many came in here and vanished without trace. But don't worry," he states, facing the traveler with a smirk. "Our excursions have a 100% return rate."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, extraterrestrial investigators and paranormal investigators from around the globe, eager to feel the strange energies said to echo through the forest.

Modern Threats

Despite being a top global hotspots for paranormal enthusiasts, this woodland is facing danger. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of more than 400,000 people, known as the tech capital of the region – are expanding, and developers are advocating for permission to clear the trees to build apartment blocks.

Barring a few hectares containing locally rare oak varieties, the grove is without conservation status, but Marius hopes that the initiative he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will contribute to improving the situation, persuading the government officials to acknowledge the forest's significance as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

While branches and seasonal debris break and crackle beneath their boots, Marius recounts various local legends and reported paranormal happenings here.

• A well-known account tells of a young child going missing during a family outing, only to return after five years with complete amnesia of the events, without aging a moment, her garments without the smallest trace of dust.
• Frequent accounts explain cellphones and imaging devices mysteriously turning off on entering the woods.
• Emotional responses vary from absolute fear to states of ecstasy.
• Certain individuals report noticing strange rashes on their bodies, perceiving ghostly voices through the trees, or sense palms pushing them, even when convinced they're by themselves.

Study Attempts

Despite several of the stories may be hard to prove, there are many things clearly observable that is definitely bizarre. Everywhere you look are vegetation whose bases are bent and twisted into fantastical shapes.

Different theories have been suggested to explain the abnormal growth: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or inherently elevated radiation levels in the earth explain their crooked growth.

But formal examinations have discovered inconclusive results.

The Legendary Opening

Marius's excursions permit guests to engage in a modest investigation of their own. As we approach the meadow in the forest where Barnea captured his famous UFO pictures, he gives the visitor an EMF meter which detects electromagnetic fields.

"We're stepping into the most energetic part of the forest," he comments. "Try to detect something."

The vegetation abruptly end as we emerge into a perfect circle. The single plant life is the trimmed turf beneath the ground; it's obvious that it hasn't been mown, and seems 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 unclear between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to haunt local communities.

Bram Stoker's well-known fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith situated on a cliff edge in the Carpathian Mountains – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home".

But even folklore-rich Transylvania – literally, "the place beyond the forest" – seems tangible and comprehensible compared to this spooky forest, which seem to be, for reasons nuclear, climatic or simply folkloric, a hub for human imaginative power.

"Inside these woods," Marius states, "the line between truth and fantasy is extremely fine."