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"They call this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," remarks an experienced guide, the air from his lungs forming wisps of mist in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "Countless people have gone missing here, some say it's an entrance to a parallel world." Marius is escorting a traveler on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of primeval indigenous forest on the edges of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Stories of bizarre occurrences here date back hundreds of years – the forest is called after a regional herder who is said to have vanished in the distant past, along with two hundred animals. But Hoia-Baciu gained global recognition in 1968, when a defense worker known as Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a UFO floating above a round opening in the heart of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and vanished without trace. But no need to fear," he states, addressing the visitor with a grin. "Our guided walks have a 100% return rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has brought in meditation experts, traditional medicine people, extraterrestrial investigators and supernatural researchers from worldwide, interested in encountering the unusual forces believed to resonate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

It may be one of the world's premier pilgrimage sites for paranormal enthusiasts, the grove is at risk. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of a population exceeding 400,000, described as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are expanding, and construction companies are campaigning for authorization to cut down the woods to construct residential buildings.

Barring a limited section housing locally rare oak varieties, the grove is without conservation status, but Marius is confident that the organization he was instrumental in creating – the Hoia-Baciu Project – will help to change that, motivating the local administrators to recognise the forest's importance as a travel hotspot.

Eerie Encounters

As twigs and autumn leaves snap and crunch beneath their boots, Marius recounts some of the folk tales and reported supernatural events here.

• A popular tale describes a young child vanishing during a family picnic, then to return half a decade later with no recollection of what had happened, having not aged a day, her clothes lacking the slightest speck of dirt.
• Regular stories detail smartphones and photography gear mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Feelings include full-blown dread to states of ecstasy.
• Certain individuals state noticing unusual marks on their arms, hearing disembodied whispers through the forest, or sense fingers clutching them, even when sure they are alone.

Scientific Investigations

Despite several of the tales may be hard to prove, there are many things clearly observable that is certainly unusual. Everywhere you look are vegetation whose bases are bent and twisted into bizarre configurations.

Different theories have been given to account for the abnormal growth: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or inherently elevated electromagnetic fields in the earth account for their crooked growth.

But formal examinations have discovered insufficient proof.

The Famous Clearing

The expert's excursions permit guests to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. Upon reaching the opening in the trees where Barnea took his well-known UFO photographs, he passes the traveler an electromagnetic field detector which detects energy patterns.

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

The trees immediately cease as we emerge into a perfect circle. The only greenery is the short grass beneath the ground; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this strange clearing is natural, not the creation of landscaping.

The Blurred Line

Transylvania generally is a location which inspires creativity, where the division is unclear between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to haunt nearby villages.

The novelist's well-known fictional vampire is permanently linked with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – an ancient structure perched on a rocky outcrop in the Carpathian Mountains – is heavily promoted as "the vampire's home".

But even folklore-rich Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – appears real and understandable compared to this spooky forest, which seem to be, for causes radioactive, climatic or purely mythical, a center for human imaginative power.

"Within this forest," the guide comments, "the division between fact and fiction is very thin."