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"Locals dub this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," remarks a local guide, the air from his lungs creating puffs of mist in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "Numerous visitors have gone missing here, it's thought it's an entrance to a parallel world." This expert is leading a guest on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the globe's spookiest forest: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of ancient native woodland on the outskirts of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Reports of strange happenings here date back centuries – the grove is named after a area shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the long ago, together with 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to worldwide fame in 1968, when an army specialist named Emil Barnea captured on film what he described as a UFO suspended above a circular clearing in the heart of the forest.

Many came in here and failed to return. But no need to fear," he adds, facing his guest with a smirk. "Our tours have a flawless completion rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, extraterrestrial investigators and paranormal investigators from around the globe, interested in encountering the unusual forces reported to reverberate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

Despite being one of the world's premier hotspots for paranormal enthusiasts, this woodland is at risk. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of a population exceeding 400,000, known as the innovation center of Eastern Europe – are encroaching, and construction companies are pushing for approval to clear the trees to build apartment blocks.

Except for a few hectares housing area-specific oak varieties, the grove is not officially protected, but the guide believes that the organization he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will help to change that, motivating the local administrators to appreciate the forest's importance as a visitor destination.

Chilling Events

When small sticks and autumn leaves split and rustle beneath their shoes, Marius recounts various folk tales and alleged ghostly incidents here.

• One famous story describes a little girl disappearing during a family picnic, then to return five years later with no memory of her experience, without aging a moment, her clothes shy of the smallest trace of dirt.
• Frequent accounts detail mobile phones and camera equipment inexplicably shutting down on entering the woods.
• Reactions vary from absolute fear to moments of euphoria.
• Certain individuals claim seeing strange rashes on their arms, detecting ghostly voices through the trees, or sense hands grabbing them, despite being sure they are alone.

Study Attempts

Despite several of the accounts may be impossible to confirm, there are many things visibly present that is certainly unusual. All around are plants whose bases are warped and gnarled into fantastical shapes.

Various suggestions have been suggested to clarify the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated electromagnetic fields in the ground cause their strange formation.

But scientific investigations have discovered insufficient proof.

The Legendary Opening

Marius's walks permit guests to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the meadow in the forest where Barnea took his renowned UFO pictures, he passes the traveler an electromagnetic field detector which registers EMF readings.

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

The plants immediately cease as they step into a perfect circle. The only greenery is the short grass beneath our feet; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and appears that this strange clearing is organic, not the creation of people.

The Blurred Line

This part of Romania is a place which fuels fantasy, where the division is unclear between truth and myth. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, shapeshifting bloodsuckers, who rise from their graves to terrorise regional populations.

The novelist's renowned vampire Count Dracula is always connected with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a medieval building perched on a stone formation in the mountain range – is heavily promoted as "the vampire's home".

But even legend-filled Transylvania – actually, "the land past the woods" – feels real and understandable compared to these eerie woods, which appear to be, for causes radioactive, climatic or simply folkloric, a nexus for human imaginative power.

"Inside these woods," Marius says, "the division between reality and imagination is remarkably blurred."