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"Locals dub this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," states a local guide, his exhalation forming puffs of mist in the cold night air. "So many people have disappeared here, it's thought it's an entrance to a different realm." The guide is leading a guest on a evening stroll through frequently labeled as the globe's spookiest grove: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of old-growth local woods on the outskirts of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Stories of strange happenings here date back a long time – this woodland is named after a local shepherd who is reportedly went missing in the long ago, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu came to global recognition in 1968, when a defense worker called Emil Barnea captured on film what he described as a UFO floating above a circular clearing in the middle of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and never came out. But no need to fear," he continues, turning to the visitor with a smirk. "Our guided walks have a perfect safety record."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has brought in meditation experts, traditional medicine people, ufologists and supernatural researchers from across the world, curious to experience the unusual forces reported to reverberate through the forest.

Modern Threats

Despite being one of the world's premier pilgrimage sites for supernatural fans, the grove is at risk. The western districts of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of more than 400,000 people, known as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and developers are advocating for approval to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Except for a few hectares housing locally rare specific tree species, this woodland is not officially protected, but the guide hopes that the initiative he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will help to change that, persuading the authorities to recognise the forest's value as a tourist attraction.

Eerie Encounters

While branches and seasonal debris break and crackle beneath their footwear, Marius describes various folk tales and claimed ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account describes a little girl disappearing during a group gathering, later to reappear half a decade later with complete amnesia of her experience, having not aged a single day, her attire shy of the slightest speck of soil.
• Frequent accounts explain cellphones and camera equipment inexplicably shutting down on stepping into the forest.
• Reactions include full-blown dread to states of ecstasy.
• Various visitors state seeing unusual marks on their arms, detecting unseen murmurs through the trees, or sense fingers clutching them, even when sure they are alone.

Research Efforts

Despite several of the tales may be unverifiable, numerous elements before my eyes that is definitely bizarre. Everywhere you look are vegetation whose trunks are curved and contorted into fantastical shapes.

Various suggestions have been proposed to account for the deformed trees: that hurricane winds could have altered the growth, or naturally high radiation levels in the ground explain their crooked growth.

But scientific investigations have found inconclusive results.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's excursions permit guests to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the clearing in the trees where Barnea took his famous UFO pictures, he gives the visitor an EMF meter which registers energy patterns.

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

The trees abruptly end as we emerge into a flawless round. The only greenery is the trimmed turf beneath the ground; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this unusual opening is natural, not the creation of human hands.

Fact Versus Fiction

This part of Romania is a place which inspires creativity, where the line is indistinct between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting creatures, who emerge from tombs to frighten local communities.

The famous author's renowned fictional vampire is always connected with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a medieval building situated on a stone formation in the Carpathian Mountains – is keenly marketed as "the count's residence".

But including folklore-rich Transylvania – literally, "the place beyond the forest" – appears solid and predictable in contrast to these eerie woods, which appear to be, for factors nuclear, environmental or purely mythical, a center for fantasy projection.

"Within this forest," the guide comments, "the boundary between fact and fiction is remarkably blurred."