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"They call this place a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," explains a tour guide, his breath forming wisps of vapor in the cold evening air. "Numerous visitors have gone missing here, some say there's a gateway to another dimension." The guide is guiding a traveler on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the globe's spookiest grove: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of primeval local woods on the outskirts of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Reports of bizarre occurrences here date back hundreds of years – this woodland is titled for a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the distant past, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to global recognition in 1968, when a military technician known as Emil Barnea took a picture of what he claimed was a unidentified flying object suspended above a oval meadow in the heart of the forest.

Many came in here and vanished without trace. But no need to fear," he adds, facing the traveler with a grin. "Our excursions have a perfect safety record."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yogis, shamans, UFO researchers and ghost hunters from worldwide, curious to experience the strange energies believed to resonate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

It may be a top global destinations for paranormal enthusiasts, the forest is facing danger. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of over 400,000 residents, described as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are expanding, and construction companies are advocating for authorization to remove the forest to construct residential buildings.

Barring a small area containing locally rare oak varieties, this woodland is without conservation status, but Marius believes that the organization he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will contribute to improving the situation, motivating the local administrators to appreciate the forest's significance as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

When small sticks and seasonal debris break and crackle beneath their boots, the guide describes various folk tales and alleged supernatural events here.

• A well-known account tells of a little girl disappearing during a group gathering, later to reappear half a decade later with complete amnesia of what had happened, without aging a moment, her clothes shy of the slightest speck of dirt.
• Frequent accounts detail mobile phones and imaging devices inexplicably shutting down on stepping into the forest.
• Reactions include absolute fear to feelings of joy.
• Various visitors claim observing strange rashes on their bodies, detecting unseen murmurs through the forest, or feel palms pushing them, despite being convinced they're by themselves.

Research Efforts

Although numerous of the stories may be impossible to confirm, there is much before my eyes that is definitely bizarre. Throughout the area are trees whose trunks are warped and gnarled into unusual forms.

Different theories have been suggested to account for the misshapen plants: powerful storms could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated radiation levels in the earth explain their unusual development.

But formal examinations have turned up inconclusive results.

The Notorious Meadow

Marius's walks allow guests to engage in a small-scale research of their own. When nearing the opening in the trees where Barnea captured his renowned UFO images, he passes his guest an ghost-hunting device which measures energy patterns.

"We're stepping into the most active area of the forest," he comments. "See what you can find."

The trees suddenly stop dead as the group enters into a complete ring. The sole vegetation is the low vegetation beneath the ground; it's obvious that it hasn't been mown, and appears that this strange clearing is natural, not the creation of landscaping.

The Blurred Line

The broader region is a area which fuels fantasy, where the line is blurred between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, form-changing creatures, who emerge from tombs to terrorise local communities.

Bram Stoker's well-known character Dracula is forever associated with Transylvania, and the legendary fortress – a Saxon monolith located on a rocky outcrop in the mountain range – is heavily promoted as "the count's residence".

But including myth-shrouded Transylvania – actually, "the land past the woods" – appears real and understandable versus these eerie woods, which give the impression of being, for causes nuclear, environmental or simply folkloric, a center for human imaginative power.

"Within this forest," Marius states, "the line between reality and imagination is remarkably blurred."