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"They call this place a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," explains a local guide, the air from his lungs forming clouds of vapor in the crisp night air. "So many visitors have disappeared here, some say it's a portal to another dimension." Marius is leading a visitor on a evening stroll through commonly known as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of old-growth native woodland on the fringes of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Stories of unusual events here extend back a long time – this woodland is called after a local shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the far-off times, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu came to global recognition in 1968, when a defense worker named Emil Barnea took a picture of what he claimed was a unidentified flying object suspended above a circular clearing in the centre of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and failed to return. But rest assured," he continues, addressing the traveler with a smirk. "Our excursions have a flawless completion rate."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has brought in yoga practitioners, spiritual healers, UFO researchers and paranormal investigators from worldwide, interested in encountering the mysterious powers believed to resonate through the forest.

Modern Threats

It may be one of the world's premier destinations for lovers of the paranormal, this woodland is at risk. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of over 400,000 residents, known as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and construction companies are advocating for permission to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Aside from a limited section containing area-specific specific tree species, the forest is lacking legal protection, but Marius believes that the organization he was instrumental in creating – a dedicated preservation group – will assist in altering this, motivating the authorities to acknowledge the forest's value as a visitor destination.

Eerie Encounters

When small sticks and autumn leaves break and crackle beneath their shoes, the guide tells some of the traditional stories and reported ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account tells of a five-year-old girl disappearing during a group gathering, then to reappear half a decade later with no memory of the events, showing no signs of aging a day, her garments without the slightest speck of dust.
• More common reports explain smartphones and camera equipment mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Emotional responses vary from full-blown dread to moments of euphoria.
• Some people report observing unusual marks on their bodies, hearing ghostly voices through the woodland, or sense palms pushing them, although certain nobody is nearby.

Research Efforts

Despite several of the stories may be impossible to confirm, there is much before my eyes that is certainly unusual. All around are vegetation whose bases are warped and gnarled into bizarre configurations.

Multiple explanations have been given to explain the misshapen plants: strong gales could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated electromagnetic fields in the ground cause their unusual development.

But research studies have found insufficient proof.

The Legendary Opening

The expert's tours enable guests to participate in a small-scale research of their own. As we approach the opening in the forest where Barnea took his renowned UFO pictures, he gives the visitor an ghost-hunting device which measures energy patterns.

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

The plants immediately cease as the group enters into a flawless round. The only greenery is the low vegetation beneath the ground; it's apparent that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this bizarre meadow is organic, not the creation of people.

Between Reality and Imagination

Transylvania generally is a place which fuels fantasy, where the line is unclear between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, form-changing bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to frighten nearby villages.

Bram Stoker's renowned vampire Count Dracula is permanently linked with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith perched on a cliff edge in the Carpathian Mountains – is heavily promoted as "the count's residence".

But even legend-filled Transylvania – truly, "the land past the woods" – feels solid and predictable compared to these eerie woods, which appear to be, for factors radioactive, climatic or entirely legendary, a nexus for creative energy.

"In Hoia-Baciu," the guide comments, "the line between fact and fiction is very thin."