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"People refer to this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," explains a local guide, his breath forming puffs of condensation in the chilly evening air. "Countless visitors have gone missing here, it's thought there's a gateway to a different realm." The guide is leading a traveler on a evening stroll through frequently labeled as the planet's most ghostly woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of primeval local woods on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Accounts of strange happenings here go back a long time – the forest is called after a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the distant past, along with two hundred animals. But Hoia-Baciu gained international attention in 1968, when a military technician named Emil Barnea captured on film what he claimed was a UFO suspended above a circular clearing in the centre of the forest.

Many came in here and never came out. But don't worry," he continues, facing the visitor with a grin. "Our excursions have a flawless completion rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has brought in meditation experts, spiritual healers, ufologists and paranormal investigators from across the world, interested in encountering the strange energies said to echo through the forest.

Modern Threats

Despite being a top global pilgrimage sites for lovers of the paranormal, the forest is facing danger. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of a population exceeding 400,000, called the innovation center of eastern Europe – are expanding, and construction companies are advocating for approval to cut down the woods to build apartment blocks.

Except for a few hectares containing regionally uncommon oak varieties, this woodland is not officially protected, but Marius hopes that the initiative he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will help to change that, encouraging the government officials to recognise the forest's value as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

While branches and fall foliage break and crackle beneath their shoes, Marius recounts various folk tales and claimed ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account describes a five-year-old girl disappearing during a group gathering, only to rematerialise after five years with no recollection of her experience, having not aged a single day, her attire lacking the slightest speck of dirt.
• Frequent accounts detail smartphones and photography gear mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Reactions include complete terror to states of ecstasy.
• Various visitors state noticing bizarre skin irritations on their bodies, perceiving disembodied whispers through the trees, or experience hands grabbing them, despite being sure they are alone.

Research Efforts

While many of the tales may be unverifiable, numerous elements before my eyes that is definitely bizarre. Throughout the area are trees whose trunks are bent and twisted into fantastical shapes.

Multiple explanations have been suggested to explain the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have shaped the young trees, or naturally high electromagnetic fields in the ground explain their crooked growth.

But research studies have discovered inconclusive results.

The Famous Clearing

The guide's tours permit visitors to take part in a small-scale research of their own. When nearing the meadow in the trees where Barnea took his well-known UFO images, he hands his guest an EMF meter which measures electromagnetic fields.

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

The vegetation abruptly end as the group enters into a flawless round. The single plant life is the trimmed turf beneath the ground; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and seems that this bizarre meadow is wild, not the creation of landscaping.

Fact Versus Fiction

The broader region is a area which fuels fantasy, where the division is indistinct between truth and myth. In traditional settlements superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to terrorise regional populations.

The famous author's renowned fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a Saxon monolith situated on a rocky outcrop in the Transylvanian Alps – is heavily promoted as "the vampire's home".

But despite folklore-rich Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – feels real and understandable versus these eerie woods, which give the impression of being, for causes nuclear, atmospheric or entirely legendary, a center for creative energy.

"Within this forest," the guide states, "the boundary between truth and fantasy is very thin."