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"Locals dub this place an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," remarks a tour guide, his breath forming wisps of vapor in the crisp night air. "Numerous individuals have vanished here, many believe there's a gateway to a different realm." This expert is guiding a visitor on a night walk through frequently labeled as the planet's most ghostly woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of primeval native woodland on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Stories of strange happenings here date back hundreds of years – this woodland is named after a local shepherd who is reportedly went missing in the distant past, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu achieved international attention in 1968, when a defense worker named Emil Barnea photographed what he reported as a flying saucer hovering above a oval meadow in the heart of the forest.

Many came in here and never came out. But rest assured," he adds, facing his guest with a smile. "Our guided walks have a perfect safety record."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has brought in yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, ufologists and supernatural researchers from across the world, curious to experience the strange energies reported to reverberate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

It may be one of the world's premier hotspots for lovers of the paranormal, this woodland is at risk. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of over 400,000 residents, known as the tech capital of Eastern Europe – are advancing, and construction companies are campaigning for approval to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Except for a small area containing area-specific oak varieties, this woodland is lacking legal protection, but the guide hopes that the initiative he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will assist in altering this, persuading the local administrators to appreciate the forest's importance as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

As twigs and autumn leaves break and crackle beneath their shoes, the guide recounts various local legends and claimed supernatural events here.

• One famous story describes a little girl going missing during a family picnic, then to rematerialise five years later with no recollection of the events, showing no signs of aging a single day, her attire lacking the slightest speck of soil.
• Frequent accounts describe smartphones and imaging devices mysteriously turning off on stepping into the forest.
• Reactions range from complete terror to feelings of joy.
• Some people state observing strange rashes on their bodies, detecting disembodied whispers through the trees, or feel hands grabbing them, despite being convinced they're by themselves.

Research Efforts

Despite several of the stories may be impossible to confirm, there is much clearly observable that is certainly unusual. All around are plants whose stems are curved and contorted into fantastical shapes.

Various suggestions have been suggested to account for the abnormal growth: that hurricane winds could have shaped the young trees, or naturally high radiation levels in the soil cause their strange formation.

But research studies have discovered insufficient proof.

The Famous Clearing

Marius's tours enable visitors to engage in a small-scale research of their own. As we approach the clearing in the woods where Barnea took his renowned UFO photographs, he hands the traveler an ghost-hunting device which measures energy patterns.

"We're venturing into the most energetic part of the forest," he comments. "See what you can find."

The vegetation abruptly end as they step into a complete ring. The only greenery is the low vegetation beneath our feet; it's obvious that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this strange clearing is organic, not the creation of human hands.

Fact Versus Fiction

Transylvania generally is a place which stirs the imagination, where the border is blurred between truth and myth. In traditional settlements belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, form-changing creatures, who rise from their graves to terrorise local communities.

The novelist's famous fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a Saxon monolith situated on a stone formation in the Transylvanian Alps – is actively advertised as "the count's residence".

But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – feels tangible and comprehensible compared to the haunted grove, which appear to be, for reasons nuclear, environmental or simply folkloric, a nexus for fantasy projection.

"In Hoia-Baciu," the guide comments, "the boundary between fact and fiction is remarkably blurred."