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"People refer to this spot the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," remarks a local guide, his exhalation forming wisps of mist in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "So many people have disappeared here, it's thought there's a gateway to a different realm." The guide is leading a traveler on a evening stroll through commonly known as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of ancient local woods on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Accounts of unusual events here date back centuries – this woodland is titled for a area shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the distant past, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu achieved worldwide fame in 1968, when an army specialist known as Emil Barnea photographed what he claimed was a flying saucer hovering above a oval meadow in the middle of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and never came out. But rest assured," he adds, facing the visitor with a smile. "Our tours have a flawless completion rate."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has attracted meditation experts, shamans, extraterrestrial investigators and paranormal investigators from across the world, interested in encountering the strange energies said to echo through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

Despite being a top global hotspots for paranormal enthusiasts, the forest is facing danger. The western districts of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of more than 400,000 people, described as the innovation center of the region – are expanding, and construction companies are campaigning for approval to remove the forest to build apartment blocks.

Barring a few hectares containing regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, this woodland is not officially protected, but Marius hopes that the organization he co-founded – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will help to change that, motivating the authorities to recognise the forest's significance as a tourist attraction.

Chilling Events

As twigs and seasonal debris snap and crunch beneath their boots, Marius describes various folk tales and alleged paranormal happenings here.

• A well-known account describes a young child vanishing during a family outing, later to rematerialise half a decade later with no recollection of what had happened, without aging a day, her clothes without the smallest trace of dirt.
• Regular stories detail mobile phones and photography gear mysteriously turning off on entering the woods.
• Feelings include absolute fear to feelings of joy.
• Some people report observing bizarre skin irritations on their bodies, perceiving ghostly voices through the forest, or experience fingers clutching them, although certain nobody is nearby.

Study Attempts

While many of the stories may be unverifiable, there are many things visibly present that is undeniably strange. Everywhere you look are plants whose trunks are warped and gnarled into unusual forms.

Multiple explanations have been proposed to account for the deformed trees: strong gales could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated radioactivity in the soil account for their strange formation.

But research studies have found no satisfactory evidence.

The Famous Clearing

Marius's excursions permit participants to engage in a modest investigation of their own. As we approach the opening in the forest where Barnea captured his well-known UFO images, he passes his guest an electromagnetic field detector which registers electromagnetic fields.

"We're entering the most powerful section of the forest," he comments. "Discover what's here."

The plants abruptly end as we emerge into a perfect circle. The single plant life is the low vegetation beneath our feet; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and seems that this bizarre meadow is organic, not the work of people.

Fact Versus Fiction

The broader region is a place which stirs the imagination, where the line is blurred between fact and folklore. In rural Romanian communities belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to terrorise nearby villages.

The famous author's well-known vampire Count Dracula is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith perched on a rocky outcrop in the Transylvanian Alps – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home".

But including legend-filled Transylvania – truly, "the place beyond the forest" – feels solid and predictable in contrast to these eerie woods, which give the impression of being, for factors nuclear, atmospheric or simply folkloric, a center for fantasy projection.

"Inside these woods," Marius comments, "the boundary between fact and fiction is remarkably blurred."