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"Locals dub this place a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," states a local guide, the air from his lungs creating puffs of mist in the cold evening air. "Numerous visitors have vanished here, some say there's a gateway to a parallel world." Marius is guiding a guest on a nocturnal tour through commonly known as the globe's spookiest grove: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of primeval local woods on the edges of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Stories of strange happenings here extend back hundreds of years – the grove is titled for a area shepherd who is reportedly went missing in the long ago, accompanied by his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu achieved international attention in 1968, when an army specialist called Emil Barnea captured on film what he described as a UFO hovering above a round opening in the heart of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and never came out. But no need to fear," he continues, addressing the visitor with a smile. "Our guided walks have a flawless completion rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has attracted yoga practitioners, spiritual healers, UFO researchers and paranormal investigators from across the world, eager to feel the strange energies believed to resonate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

Although it is one of the world's premier destinations for supernatural fans, the forest is under threat. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of a population exceeding 400,000, called the tech capital of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and developers are advocating for authorization to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Barring a small area home to area-specific Mediterranean oak trees, the forest 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 acknowledge the forest's value as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

While branches and fall foliage break and crackle beneath their shoes, Marius describes various folk tales and claimed ghostly incidents here.

• One famous story tells of a young child disappearing during a group gathering, then to rematerialise half a decade later with no memory of what had happened, having not aged a day, her attire without the tiniest bit of soil.
• Regular stories explain mobile phones and camera equipment inexplicably shutting down on venturing inside.
• Feelings include full-blown dread to states of ecstasy.
• Various visitors report seeing bizarre skin irritations on their skin, perceiving unseen murmurs through the woodland, or feel palms pushing them, even when sure they are alone.

Research Efforts

While many of the stories may be unverifiable, numerous elements clearly observable that is certainly unusual. Throughout the area are vegetation whose stems are curved and contorted into bizarre configurations.

Various suggestions have been suggested to account for the deformed trees: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or naturally high electromagnetic fields in the soil cause their crooked growth.

But scientific investigations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's tours enable participants to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the clearing in the woods where Barnea took his renowned UFO images, he hands the traveler an electromagnetic field detector which registers electromagnetic fields.

"We're entering the most active section of the forest," he says. "Try to detect something."

The plants abruptly end as the group enters into a complete ring. The sole vegetation is the short grass beneath the ground; it's obvious that it's naturally occurring, and seems that this bizarre meadow is natural, not the creation of landscaping.

Between Reality and Imagination

This part of Romania is a place which stirs the imagination, where the division is indistinct between reality and legend. In traditional settlements belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to haunt local communities.

The novelist's well-known fictional vampire is permanently linked with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a medieval building situated on a rocky outcrop in the Carpathian Mountains – is actively advertised as "the count's residence".

But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – truly, "the territory after the grove" – feels solid and predictable compared to these eerie woods, which seem to be, for causes related to radiation, environmental or simply folkloric, a hub for fantasy projection.

"Inside these woods," Marius states, "the boundary between fact and fiction is extremely fine."