🔗 Share this article Venturing into the Globe's Spookiest Woodland: Contorted Trees, UFOs and Chilling Accounts in Transylvania. "Locals dub this location a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," explains a local guide, his exhalation creating wisps of vapor in the cold night air. "Numerous people have vanished here, it's thought it's a portal to a different realm." The guide is leading a traveler on a night walk through what is often described as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of ancient indigenous forest on the outskirts of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca. Centuries of Mystery Accounts of strange happenings here extend back a long time – the forest is titled for a regional herder who is believed to have disappeared in the long ago, accompanied by two hundred animals. But Hoia-Baciu gained worldwide fame in 1968, when a defense worker known as Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a unidentified flying object floating above a oval meadow in the centre of the forest. Countless ventured inside and vanished without trace. But rest assured," he adds, facing the visitor with a smile. "Our tours have a flawless completion rate." In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yoga practitioners, shamans, UFO researchers and supernatural researchers from around the globe, curious to experience the unusual forces said to echo through the forest. Current Risks Although it is among the planet's leading hotspots for paranormal enthusiasts, the forest is at risk. The western districts of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of a population exceeding 400,000, described as the Silicon Valley of eastern Europe – are advancing, and developers are campaigning for approval to cut down the woods to erect housing complexes. Barring a few hectares containing area-specific Mediterranean oak trees, the grove is without conservation status, but Marius is confident that the organization he was instrumental in creating – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will assist in altering this, persuading the authorities to appreciate the forest's importance as a visitor destination. Chilling Events As twigs and fall foliage split and rustle beneath their boots, Marius tells numerous local legends and reported paranormal happenings here. One famous story recounts a little girl going missing during a family picnic, then to reappear after five years with complete amnesia of the events, having not aged a single day, her clothes lacking the smallest trace of dust. More common reports describe mobile phones and photography gear mysteriously turning off on stepping into the forest. Emotional responses include absolute fear to moments of euphoria. Various visitors state observing strange rashes on their bodies, perceiving ghostly voices through the trees, or experience palms pushing them, although convinced they're by themselves. Research Efforts Although numerous of the accounts may be hard to prove, there are many things before my eyes that is certainly unusual. All around are vegetation whose trunks are warped and gnarled into bizarre configurations. Multiple explanations have been proposed to clarify the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have altered the growth, or naturally high electromagnetic fields in the soil explain their strange formation. But scientific investigations have discovered no satisfactory evidence. The Legendary Opening The expert's walks allow visitors to participate in a small-scale research of their own. When nearing the opening in the woods where Barnea took his well-known UFO pictures, he gives the traveler an ghost-hunting device which detects energy patterns. "We're entering the most active section of the forest," he comments. "Discover what's here." The vegetation abruptly end as we emerge into a flawless round. The single plant life is the short grass beneath their shoes; it's apparent that it's naturally occurring, and appears that this strange clearing is organic, not the result of human hands. The Blurred Line This part of Romania is a place which inspires creativity, where the line is blurred between reality and legend. In countryside villages faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing vampires, who rise from their graves to terrorise nearby villages. The famous author's famous fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a Saxon monolith perched on a stone formation in the Carpathian Mountains – is actively advertised as "the count's residence". But despite myth-shrouded Transylvania – literally, "the territory after the grove" – seems solid and predictable versus this spooky forest, which seem to be, for factors radioactive, climatic or purely mythical, a hub for fantasy projection. "Inside these woods," Marius says, "the boundary between reality and imagination is extremely fine."