🔗 Share this article Delving into the Globe's Spookiest Grove: Twisted Trees, UFOs and Eerie Tales in Transylvania. "They call this location a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," remarks a local guide, his breath forming clouds of vapor in the chilly night air. "So many people have gone missing here, it's thought it's a portal to a different realm." Marius is guiding a traveler on a evening stroll through what is often described as the world's most haunted woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of primeval indigenous forest on the fringes of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca. A Long History of the Unexplained Stories of strange happenings here extend back a long time – the forest is named after a area shepherd who is said to have vanished in the long ago, accompanied by two hundred animals. But Hoia-Baciu achieved worldwide fame in 1968, when an army specialist known as Emil Barnea took a picture of what he described as a unidentified flying object floating above a round opening in the centre of the forest. Numerous entered this place and vanished without trace. But rest assured," he states, turning to the visitor with a smile. "Our excursions have a perfect safety record." In the years that followed, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yoga practitioners, shamans, ufologists and ghost hunters from worldwide, eager to feel the mysterious powers reported to reverberate through the forest. Modern Threats It may be among the planet's leading pilgrimage sites for lovers of the paranormal, the forest is at risk. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a contemporary technology center of over 400,000 residents, known as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and real estate firms are campaigning for authorization to cut down the woods to erect housing complexes. Aside from a few hectares containing regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, this woodland is not officially protected, but Marius believes that the company he helped establish – a dedicated preservation group – will help to change that, persuading the government officials to acknowledge the forest's importance as a tourist attraction. Chilling Events When small sticks and autumn leaves snap and crunch beneath their boots, Marius describes various traditional stories and claimed paranormal happenings here. A well-known account describes a little girl going missing during a family outing, later to reappear after five years with no recollection of what had happened, showing no signs of aging a moment, her attire without the tiniest bit of dust. Frequent accounts detail cellphones and photography gear unexpectedly failing on stepping into the forest. Feelings include complete terror to states of ecstasy. Various visitors claim observing bizarre skin irritations on their bodies, perceiving unseen murmurs through the trees, or sense hands grabbing them, despite being convinced they're by themselves. Scientific Investigations Although numerous of the accounts may be impossible to confirm, numerous elements before my eyes that is undeniably strange. All around are plants whose trunks are warped and gnarled into unusual forms. Various suggestions have been given to explain the misshapen plants: powerful storms could have altered the growth, or naturally high radioactivity in the earth cause their crooked growth. But scientific investigations have found inconclusive results. The Famous Clearing Marius's walks allow visitors to take part in a modest investigation of their own. When nearing the clearing in the forest where Barnea photographed his well-known UFO photographs, he passes his guest an electromagnetic field detector which detects electromagnetic fields. "We're stepping into the most active section of the forest," he says. "Discover what's here." The plants abruptly end as the group enters into a flawless round. The sole vegetation is the trimmed turf beneath the ground; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and looks that this bizarre meadow is wild, not the creation of human hands. The Blurred Line This part of Romania is a location which inspires creativity, where the line is indistinct between truth and myth. In countryside villages belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – supernatural, shapeshifting bloodsuckers, who rise from their graves to terrorise regional populations. The novelist's well-known fictional vampire is permanently linked with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith located on a cliff edge in the Transylvanian Alps – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home". But even legend-filled Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – appears solid and predictable compared to the haunted grove, which seem to be, for factors radioactive, atmospheric or entirely legendary, a nexus for fantasy projection. "Within this forest," Marius states, "the boundary between fact and fiction is remarkably blurred."