🔗 Share this article

"They call this spot an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," states an experienced guide, his breath producing puffs of condensation in the crisp evening air. "Numerous visitors have disappeared here, many believe it's a portal to a different realm." Marius is leading a traveler on a nocturnal tour through frequently labeled as the world's most haunted woodland: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of primeval native woodland on the fringes of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Reports of bizarre occurrences here extend back centuries – the forest is called after a regional herder who is reportedly went missing in the far-off times, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu gained international attention in 1968, when a military technician called Emil Barnea took a picture of what he claimed was a flying saucer suspended above a oval meadow in the heart of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and vanished without trace. But no need to fear," he states, facing the traveler with a smile. "Our tours have a 100% return rate."

In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has attracted yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, ufologists and paranormal investigators from worldwide, eager to feel the mysterious powers said to echo through the forest.

Modern Threats

It may be a top global pilgrimage sites for supernatural fans, the grove is facing danger. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of over 400,000 residents, called the Silicon Valley of Eastern Europe – are expanding, and developers are pushing for authorization to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Except for a small area containing regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, the forest is not officially protected, but the guide believes that the organization he was instrumental in creating – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will assist in altering this, persuading the local administrators to appreciate the forest's value as a visitor destination.

Spooky Experiences

While branches and fall foliage split and rustle beneath their footwear, Marius tells some of the folk tales and alleged ghostly incidents here.

• A popular tale tells of a little girl vanishing during a group gathering, later to return after five years with no memory of her experience, showing no signs of aging a moment, her attire lacking the tiniest bit of dust.
• More common reports describe smartphones and camera equipment mysteriously turning off on entering the woods.
• Emotional responses vary from complete terror to feelings of joy.
• Some people claim seeing strange rashes on their skin, perceiving unseen murmurs through the forest, or experience palms pushing them, even when sure they are alone.

Scientific Investigations

Although numerous of the accounts may be unverifiable, there is much before my eyes that is undeniably strange. All around are plants whose bases are curved and contorted into unusual forms.

Multiple explanations have been proposed to account for the misshapen plants: that hurricane winds could have altered the growth, or typically increased electromagnetic fields in the ground explain their unusual development.

But formal examinations have turned up no satisfactory evidence.

The Famous Clearing

The expert's excursions enable participants to take part in a modest investigation of their own. Upon reaching the opening in the forest where Barnea captured his famous UFO images, he hands his guest an EMF meter which measures EMF readings.

"We're stepping into the most active area of the forest," he comments. "Discover what's here."

The plants immediately cease as the group enters into a flawless round. The single plant life is the low vegetation beneath their shoes; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and appears that this bizarre meadow is wild, not the work of human hands.

The Blurred Line

Transylvania generally is a location which inspires creativity, where the border is blurred between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to haunt nearby villages.

The novelist's renowned fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – an ancient structure situated on a rocky outcrop in the Transylvanian Alps – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home".

But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – literally, "the territory after the grove" – feels real and understandable in contrast to these eerie woods, which seem to be, for causes radioactive, climatic or entirely legendary, a nexus for fantasy projection.

"Within this forest," Marius says, "the boundary between truth and fantasy is extremely fine."