Venturing into this Planet's Most Ghostly Woodland: Contorted Trees, Flying Saucers and Chilling Accounts in Romania's Legendary Region.
"Locals dub this spot the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," states a tour guide, his exhalation forming clouds of vapor in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "So many people have gone missing here, many believe there's a gateway to another dimension." This expert is escorting a traveler on a evening stroll through what is often described as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of ancient local woods on the edges of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.
Centuries of Mystery
Accounts of strange happenings here go back hundreds of years – the grove is named after a local shepherd who is said to have vanished in the far-off times, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to international attention in 1968, when a military technician named Emil Barnea photographed what he reported as a unidentified flying object suspended above a round opening in the heart of the forest.
Numerous entered this place and never came out. But no need to fear," he continues, addressing the traveler with a grin. "Our excursions have a perfect safety record."
In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has drawn meditation experts, shamans, UFO researchers and ghost hunters from worldwide, eager to feel the mysterious powers believed to resonate through the forest.
Current Risks
It may be among the planet's leading destinations for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is under threat. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a contemporary technology center of more than 400,000 people, known as the tech capital of eastern Europe – are encroaching, and construction companies are advocating for approval to clear the trees to construct residential buildings.
Barring a small area home to locally rare oak varieties, the grove is without conservation status, but the guide believes that the company he helped establish – a dedicated preservation group – will help to change that, motivating the local administrators to appreciate the forest's importance as a travel hotspot.
Eerie Encounters
When small sticks and fall foliage split and rustle beneath their footwear, Marius describes numerous traditional stories and reported supernatural events here.
- One famous story recounts a five-year-old girl going missing during a group gathering, only to reappear after five years with complete amnesia of the events, showing no signs of aging a single day, her clothes without the smallest trace of dirt.
- Regular stories describe mobile phones and camera equipment inexplicably shutting down on venturing inside.
- Reactions range from complete terror to moments of euphoria.
- Various visitors report observing unusual marks on their arms, hearing unseen murmurs through the trees, or sense fingers clutching them, despite being certain nobody is nearby.
Scientific Investigations
Although numerous of the tales may be impossible to confirm, there is much clearly observable that is undeniably strange. All around are trees whose stems are bent and twisted into unusual forms.
Multiple explanations have been proposed to account for the deformed trees: powerful storms could have bent the saplings, or typically increased radioactivity in the ground account for their unusual development.
But formal examinations have found insufficient proof.
The Legendary Opening
The guide's walks allow guests to engage in a little scientific inquiry of their own. Upon reaching the opening in the forest where Barnea photographed his well-known UFO pictures, he gives the visitor an ghost-hunting device which registers electromagnetic fields.
"We're stepping into the most active section of the forest," he comments. "Try to detect something."
The trees immediately cease as the group enters into a complete ring. The single plant life is the trimmed turf beneath the ground; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and appears that this strange clearing is organic, not the creation of landscaping.
Fact Versus Fiction
The broader region is a place which inspires creativity, where the line is blurred between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting vampires, who rise from their graves to frighten regional populations.
Bram Stoker's well-known vampire Count Dracula is always connected with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a medieval building situated on a stone formation in the Carpathian Mountains – is actively advertised as "Dracula's Castle".
But even myth-shrouded Transylvania – truly, "the territory after the grove" – feels solid and predictable in contrast to this spooky forest, which appear to be, for causes radioactive, atmospheric or entirely legendary, a nexus for fantasy projection.
"Within this forest," Marius says, "the line between truth and fantasy is extremely fine."