🔗 Share this article

"They call this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," remarks a tour guide, his exhalation creating puffs of vapor in the chilly night air. "So many individuals have vanished here, it's thought there's a gateway to a parallel world." Marius is escorting a guest on a night walk through frequently labeled as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of old-growth indigenous forest on the fringes of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.

Hundreds of Years of Enigma

Accounts of strange happenings here extend back a long time – the grove is named after a area shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the long ago, along with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu gained global recognition in 1968, when a military technician called Emil Barnea photographed what he described as a flying saucer hovering above a round opening in the middle of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and failed to return. But rest assured," he continues, facing his guest with a grin. "Our tours have a 100% return rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has attracted yoga practitioners, shamans, UFO researchers and paranormal investigators from around the globe, eager to feel the mysterious powers believed to resonate through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

It may be a top global destinations for paranormal enthusiasts, this woodland is at risk. The western districts of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of a population exceeding 400,000, described as the tech capital of the region – are expanding, and developers are campaigning for approval to remove the forest to construct residential buildings.

Except for a small area containing locally rare specific tree species, this woodland is not officially protected, but the guide believes that the organization he helped establish – a dedicated preservation group – will assist in altering this, persuading the local administrators to recognise the forest's significance as a visitor destination.

Eerie Encounters

As twigs and autumn leaves split and rustle beneath their footwear, Marius tells various local legends and claimed ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account recounts a young child going missing during a family picnic, then to return half a decade later with no memory of what had happened, showing no signs of aging a moment, her clothes lacking the slightest speck of dirt.
• More common reports explain smartphones and photography gear inexplicably shutting down on entering the woods.
• Emotional responses include full-blown dread to feelings of joy.
• Certain individuals state noticing bizarre skin irritations on their bodies, detecting disembodied whispers through the woodland, or feel hands grabbing them, even when convinced they're by themselves.

Research Efforts

While many of the accounts may be impossible to confirm, there are many things before my eyes that is certainly unusual. All around are plants whose bases are bent and twisted into fantastical shapes.

Multiple explanations have been given to clarify the misshapen plants: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or typically increased electromagnetic fields in the earth account for their strange formation.

But formal examinations have found no satisfactory evidence.

The Notorious Meadow

The expert's excursions permit participants to engage in a little scientific inquiry of their own. When nearing the meadow in the trees where Barnea took his famous UFO pictures, he passes the visitor an EMF meter which registers electromagnetic fields.

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

The plants immediately cease as we emerge into a complete ring. The only greenery is the low vegetation beneath our feet; it's obvious that it hasn't been mown, and appears that this bizarre meadow is wild, not the result of human hands.

Fact Versus Fiction

The broader region is a area which fuels fantasy, where the division is unclear between truth and myth. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who rise from their graves to haunt local communities.

Bram Stoker's famous fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith located on a cliff edge in the Transylvanian Alps – is heavily promoted as "the vampire's home".

But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – literally, "the place beyond the forest" – seems solid and predictable versus these eerie woods, which seem to be, for reasons radioactive, environmental or purely mythical, a hub for fantasy projection.

"Within this forest," the guide comments, "the boundary between truth and fantasy is very thin."