Delving into this Planet's Most Ghostly Grove: Contorted Trees, Unidentified Flying Objects and Chilling Accounts in Transylvania.

"People refer to this place an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," remarks an experienced guide, his exhalation forming wisps of condensation in the crisp night air. "Numerous individuals have disappeared here, many believe there's a gateway to a different realm." This expert is guiding a traveler on a nocturnal tour through commonly known as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of primeval indigenous forest on the edges of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Reports of unusual events here extend back a long time – this woodland is named after a local shepherd who is said to have vanished in the distant past, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to worldwide fame in 1968, when a defense worker called Emil Barnea photographed what he described as a flying saucer floating above a oval meadow in the middle of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and failed to return. But don't worry," he continues, turning to the traveler with a smirk. "Our tours have a perfect safety record."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has brought in meditation experts, spiritual healers, ufologists and supernatural researchers from across the world, curious to experience the mysterious powers said to echo through the forest.

Current Risks

Despite being a top global hotspots for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is under threat. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of a population exceeding 400,000, called the innovation center of the region – are encroaching, and real estate firms are advocating for approval to remove the forest to erect housing complexes.

Barring a limited section containing regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, the grove is lacking legal protection, but Marius hopes that the organization he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will help to change that, persuading the local administrators to appreciate the forest's importance as a tourist attraction.

Chilling Events

While branches and autumn leaves snap and crunch beneath their shoes, the guide describes various traditional stories and reported ghostly incidents here.

• A popular tale recounts a five-year-old girl vanishing during a group gathering, later to return after five years with complete amnesia of her experience, having not aged a moment, her clothes without the tiniest bit of soil.
• Regular stories detail cellphones and imaging devices unexpectedly failing on entering the woods.
• Reactions include absolute fear to states of ecstasy.
• Some people state observing unusual marks on their skin, perceiving disembodied whispers through the woodland, or experience fingers clutching them, although sure they are alone.

Study Attempts

Despite several of the stories may be hard to prove, there is much clearly observable that is certainly unusual. Throughout the area are vegetation whose trunks are warped and gnarled into bizarre configurations.

Various suggestions have been given to account for the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated electromagnetic fields in the soil explain their strange formation.

But formal examinations have turned up inconclusive results.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's walks allow visitors to take part in a small-scale research of their own. Upon reaching the clearing in the forest where Barnea photographed his famous UFO images, he passes his guest an EMF meter which detects electromagnetic fields.

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

The trees suddenly stop dead as the group enters into a perfect circle. The sole vegetation is the low vegetation beneath the ground; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this unusual opening is organic, not the creation of landscaping.

The Blurred Line

Transylvania generally is a place which fuels fantasy, where the division is blurred between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who return from burial sites to frighten regional populations.

Bram Stoker's renowned fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a medieval building situated on a cliff edge in the Transylvanian Alps – is heavily promoted as "the vampire's home".

But even legend-filled Transylvania – literally, "the territory after the grove" – feels tangible and comprehensible compared to these eerie woods, which give the impression of being, for reasons nuclear, atmospheric or simply folkloric, a hub for human imaginative power.

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