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"They call this place a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," remarks an experienced guide, his exhalation creating clouds of condensation in the cold evening air. "Numerous people have gone missing here, it's thought there's a gateway to a different realm." This expert is escorting a traveler on a evening stroll through commonly known as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of primeval local woods on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Stories of strange happenings here date back hundreds of years – the forest is called after a area shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the long ago, together with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu gained worldwide fame in 1968, when a defense worker named Emil Barnea took a picture of what he claimed was a flying saucer floating above a oval meadow in the heart of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and vanished without trace. But no need to fear," he continues, facing his guest with a grin. "Our tours have a 100% return rate."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has drawn meditation experts, traditional medicine people, ufologists and ghost hunters from around the globe, eager to feel the unusual forces believed to resonate through the forest.

Current Risks

Despite being a top global destinations for lovers of the paranormal, this woodland is under threat. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a contemporary technology center of a population exceeding 400,000, called the innovation center of the region – are encroaching, and real estate firms are advocating for permission to cut down the woods to construct residential buildings.

Barring a small area home to locally rare oak varieties, this woodland is not officially protected, but Marius believes that the organization he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will assist in altering this, persuading the local administrators to appreciate the forest's importance as a tourist attraction.

Spooky Experiences

As twigs and autumn leaves split and rustle beneath their boots, Marius tells numerous folk tales and reported paranormal happenings here.

• A popular tale tells of a young child disappearing during a family picnic, then to rematerialise after five years with no recollection of what had happened, without aging a moment, her attire lacking the smallest trace of soil.
• Regular stories describe smartphones and photography gear inexplicably shutting down on stepping into the forest.
• Reactions range from absolute fear to moments of euphoria.
• Various visitors report noticing unusual marks on their arms, hearing disembodied whispers through the woodland, or feel hands grabbing them, despite being convinced they're by themselves.

Study Attempts

While many of the accounts may be unverifiable, there are many things clearly observable that is definitely bizarre. Everywhere you look are plants whose trunks are curved and contorted into bizarre configurations.

Different theories have been proposed to clarify the deformed trees: that hurricane winds could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated radioactivity in the soil cause their strange formation.

But formal examinations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Famous Clearing

The guide's walks enable participants to take part in a modest investigation of their own. Upon reaching the meadow in the forest where Barnea captured his famous UFO pictures, he passes his guest an EMF meter which measures electromagnetic fields.

"We're venturing into the most powerful part of the forest," he says. "Discover what's here."

The vegetation abruptly end as the group enters into a complete ring. The sole vegetation is the trimmed turf beneath our feet; it's apparent that it hasn't been mown, and looks that this unusual opening is organic, not the result of people.

The Blurred Line

This part of Romania is a place which inspires creativity, where the border is indistinct between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to terrorise local communities.

The novelist's famous fictional vampire is permanently linked with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a medieval building perched on a cliff edge in the Carpathian Mountains – is keenly marketed as "Dracula's Castle".

But even folklore-rich Transylvania – truly, "the place beyond the forest" – feels tangible and comprehensible versus the haunted grove, which give the impression of being, for reasons related to radiation, climatic or purely mythical, a center for fantasy projection.

"Within this forest," Marius says, "the division between fact and fiction is extremely fine."