Delving into this Globe's Spookiest Woodland: Contorted Trees, UFOs and Chilling Accounts in Romania's Legendary Region.

"Locals dub this spot an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," states an experienced guide, the air from his lungs producing clouds of mist in the crisp dusk atmosphere. "Numerous individuals have gone missing here, many believe it's an entrance to a different realm." Marius is guiding a guest on a evening stroll through commonly known as the globe's spookiest grove: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of primeval indigenous forest on the fringes of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

A Long History of the Unexplained

Reports of unusual events here extend back hundreds of years – the grove is titled for a local shepherd who is reportedly went missing in the far-off times, together with his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu achieved international attention in 1968, when a military technician called Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a flying saucer suspended above a oval meadow in the centre of the forest.

Numerous entered this place and vanished without trace. But no need to fear," he adds, turning to the traveler with a grin. "Our guided walks have a 100% return rate."

In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has drawn meditation experts, shamans, extraterrestrial investigators and paranormal investigators from worldwide, interested in encountering the unusual forces believed to resonate through the forest.

Current Risks

Although it is one of the world's premier destinations for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is facing danger. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – an innovative digital cluster of more than 400,000 people, known as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are advancing, and real estate firms are advocating for permission to cut down the woods to build apartment blocks.

Except for a small area home to locally rare Mediterranean oak trees, the forest is without conservation status, but the guide believes that the organization he co-founded – a dedicated preservation group – will assist in altering this, persuading the authorities to appreciate the forest's significance as a tourist attraction.

Eerie Encounters

When small sticks and fall foliage split and rustle beneath their footwear, Marius tells various local legends and alleged ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account recounts a young child disappearing during a family outing, only to return five years later with complete amnesia of what had happened, showing no signs of aging a moment, her garments lacking the tiniest bit of soil.
• Frequent accounts describe cellphones and camera equipment mysteriously turning off on venturing inside.
• Feelings include complete terror to feelings of joy.
• Various visitors state noticing strange rashes on their arms, hearing ghostly voices through the forest, or experience fingers clutching them, despite being sure they are alone.

Study Attempts

Although numerous of the stories may be unverifiable, there is much before my eyes that is undeniably strange. All around are vegetation whose trunks are curved and contorted into fantastical shapes.

Multiple explanations have been suggested to explain the abnormal growth: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or inherently elevated radiation levels in the ground explain their unusual development.

But formal examinations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Legendary Opening

The guide's tours enable guests to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. When nearing the opening in the trees where Barnea took his famous UFO pictures, he hands the traveler an ghost-hunting device which measures electromagnetic fields.

"We're stepping into the most energetic part of the forest," he says. "See what you can find."

The trees immediately cease as we emerge into a flawless round. The only greenery is the short grass beneath their shoes; it's clear that it hasn't been mown, and appears that this strange clearing is natural, not the work of human hands.

Fact Versus Fiction

Transylvania generally is a place which stirs the imagination, where the border is indistinct between fact and folklore. In countryside villages faith continues in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting creatures, who rise from their graves to terrorise nearby villages.

Bram Stoker's famous vampire Count Dracula is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a Saxon monolith perched on a stone formation in the Transylvanian Alps – is keenly marketed as "the vampire's home".

But including myth-shrouded Transylvania – literally, "the land past the woods" – seems tangible and comprehensible compared to this spooky forest, which seem to be, for factors radioactive, climatic or simply folkloric, a hub for creative energy.

"Inside these woods," Marius says, "the line between reality and imagination is extremely fine."