Venturing into the World's Most Haunted Forest: Gnarled Trees, Unidentified Flying Objects and Eerie Tales in Transylvania.

"Locals dub this spot a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," states an experienced guide, the air from his lungs forming wisps of mist in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "Numerous visitors have vanished here, it's thought it's a portal to a parallel world." Marius is guiding a visitor on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the planet's most ghostly woodland: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of ancient indigenous forest on the outskirts of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Reports of unusual events here date back hundreds of years – this woodland is titled for a regional herder who is believed to have disappeared in the distant past, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu gained international attention in 1968, when a defense worker named Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a flying saucer hovering above a circular clearing in the heart of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and never came out. But no need to fear," he adds, turning to his guest with a smirk. "Our excursions have a 100% return rate."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has attracted meditation experts, shamans, extraterrestrial investigators and paranormal investigators from around the globe, eager to feel the unusual forces said to echo through the forest.

Modern Threats

It may be one of the world's premier destinations for supernatural fans, the forest is at risk. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of more than 400,000 people, called the Silicon Valley of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and real estate firms are advocating for authorization to clear the trees to erect housing complexes.

Barring a small area home to regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, the forest is lacking legal protection, but the guide is confident that the company he was instrumental in creating – a local conservation effort – will assist in altering this, encouraging the authorities to recognise the forest's importance as a travel hotspot.

Chilling Events

When small sticks and seasonal debris snap and crunch beneath their boots, Marius tells numerous local legends and claimed ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account recounts a five-year-old girl going missing during a group gathering, only to rematerialise half a decade later with no memory of the events, showing no signs of aging a single day, her attire without the smallest trace of soil.
• Frequent accounts detail cellphones and imaging devices inexplicably shutting down on venturing inside.
• Feelings range from full-blown dread to moments of euphoria.
• Some people state observing strange rashes on their skin, perceiving disembodied whispers through the trees, or sense hands grabbing them, even when convinced they're by themselves.

Research Efforts

While many of the tales may be unverifiable, there are many things clearly observable that is certainly unusual. Everywhere you look are plants whose bases are curved and contorted into bizarre configurations.

Various suggestions have been given to explain the abnormal growth: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or naturally high radioactivity in the ground account for their strange formation.

But scientific investigations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Famous Clearing

Marius's tours allow guests to engage in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the opening in the forest where Barnea photographed his well-known UFO images, he hands the visitor an electromagnetic field detector which detects EMF readings.

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

The vegetation immediately cease as they step into a complete ring. The single plant life is the trimmed turf beneath their shoes; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and seems that this strange clearing is organic, not the work of human hands.

Between Reality and Imagination

The broader region is a area which fuels fantasy, where the line is indistinct between fact and folklore. In countryside villages faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, form-changing vampires, who rise from their graves to frighten nearby villages.

Bram Stoker's renowned character Dracula is permanently linked with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith perched on a rocky outcrop in the mountain range – is heavily promoted as "Dracula's Castle".

But despite myth-shrouded Transylvania – truly, "the land past the woods" – appears tangible and comprehensible compared to these eerie woods, which seem to be, for reasons nuclear, climatic or purely mythical, a nexus for creative energy.

"Inside these woods," Marius states, "the division between fact and fiction is very thin."