🔗 Share this article

"They call this location an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," explains a local guide, the air from his lungs producing wisps of vapor in the crisp dusk atmosphere. "Numerous people have disappeared here, it's thought there's a gateway to a different realm." The guide is leading a guest on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the globe's spookiest forest: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of primeval local woods on the fringes of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Accounts of unusual events here go back a long time – the forest is called after a regional herder who is said to have vanished in the long ago, together with 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to international attention in 1968, when a defense worker named Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a flying saucer hovering above a circular clearing in the heart of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and vanished without trace. But rest assured," he continues, facing his guest with a smirk. "Our tours have a perfect safety record."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has brought in yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, ufologists and ghost hunters from around the globe, eager to feel the strange energies said to echo through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

Although it is one of the world's premier hotspots for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is under threat. The western districts of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of a population exceeding 400,000, called the tech capital of Eastern Europe – are expanding, and real estate firms are advocating for approval to cut down the woods to build apartment blocks.

Barring a small area containing area-specific oak varieties, the grove is lacking legal protection, but Marius hopes that the organization he co-founded – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will help to change that, persuading the authorities to acknowledge the forest's importance as a tourist attraction.

Eerie Encounters

As twigs and seasonal debris snap and crunch beneath their shoes, Marius describes various local legends and alleged paranormal happenings here.

• A popular tale tells of a young child vanishing during a family outing, later to rematerialise after five years with no memory of the events, showing no signs of aging a day, her attire lacking the smallest trace of dirt.
• Frequent accounts describe mobile phones and camera equipment mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Feelings vary from complete terror to states of ecstasy.
• Certain individuals claim observing bizarre skin irritations on their arms, perceiving disembodied whispers through the trees, or sense hands grabbing them, despite being convinced they're by themselves.

Study Attempts

While many of the tales may be impossible to confirm, there is much clearly observable that is undeniably strange. Throughout the area are trees whose bases are curved and contorted into unusual forms.

Multiple explanations have been proposed to explain the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or naturally high radioactivity in the soil explain their unusual development.

But research studies have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's tours allow visitors to participate in a small-scale research of their own. When nearing the opening in the trees where Barnea photographed his renowned UFO photographs, he passes his guest an EMF meter which registers electromagnetic fields.

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

The vegetation suddenly stop dead as we emerge into a flawless round. The only greenery is the low vegetation beneath the ground; it's obvious that it's naturally occurring, and seems that this strange clearing is organic, not the result of people.

The Blurred Line

Transylvania generally is a area which fuels fantasy, where the division is blurred between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to frighten local communities.

The famous author's well-known fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and the historic stronghold – a medieval building situated on a rocky outcrop in the Transylvanian Alps – is actively advertised as "the vampire's home".

But despite myth-shrouded Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – feels tangible and comprehensible in contrast to the haunted grove, which give the impression of being, for factors nuclear, climatic or purely mythical, a hub for creative energy.

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