Elara is a seasoned travel writer and photographer who has explored over 50 countries, sharing unique cultural experiences and practical advice for fellow adventurers.
"People refer to this location the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," states a local guide, the air from his lungs forming puffs of condensation in the chilly dusk atmosphere. "So many people have disappeared here, many believe it's an entrance to another dimension." The guide is leading a traveler on a nocturnal tour through what is often described as the globe's spookiest woodland: Hoia-Baciu, an area covering one square mile of old-growth native woodland on the fringes of the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca.
Accounts of unusual events here go back hundreds of years – this woodland is called after a local shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the far-off times, together with 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu came to worldwide fame in 1968, when a military technician called Emil Barnea photographed what he described as a unidentified flying object hovering above a circular clearing in the heart of the forest.
Many came in here and failed to return. But no need to fear," he states, turning to the traveler with a smile. "Our guided walks have a flawless completion rate."
In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has attracted yoga practitioners, traditional medicine people, UFO researchers and supernatural researchers from around the globe, interested in encountering the unusual forces reported to reverberate through the forest.
Despite being among the planet's leading destinations for supernatural fans, the forest is at risk. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a contemporary technology center of a population exceeding 400,000, described as the Silicon Valley of the region – are encroaching, and construction companies are pushing for authorization to clear the trees to construct residential buildings.
Barring a limited section home to regionally uncommon Mediterranean oak trees, this woodland is lacking legal protection, but the guide hopes that the organization he was instrumental in creating – a dedicated preservation group – will help to change that, motivating the local administrators to appreciate the forest's value as a travel hotspot.
As twigs and autumn leaves break and crackle beneath their shoes, the guide describes various local legends and reported supernatural events here.
Despite several of the tales may be impossible to confirm, numerous elements clearly observable that is definitely bizarre. Everywhere you look are vegetation whose bases are bent and twisted into unusual forms.
Multiple explanations have been suggested to clarify the deformed trees: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or typically increased electromagnetic fields in the ground cause their unusual development.
But scientific investigations have found no satisfactory evidence.
The expert's tours permit visitors to take part in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the meadow in the trees where Barnea photographed his famous UFO photographs, he passes the traveler an ghost-hunting device which registers electromagnetic fields.
"We're entering the most energetic part of the forest," he comments. "See what you can find."
The trees immediately cease as they step into a complete ring. The single plant life is the low vegetation beneath their shoes; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and looks that this strange clearing is natural, not the work of landscaping.
The broader region is a location which stirs the imagination, where the division is indistinct between fact and folklore. In traditional settlements belief persists in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, appearance-altering bloodsuckers, who emerge from tombs to frighten local communities.
The novelist's famous fictional vampire is forever associated with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – an ancient structure located on a cliff edge in the Transylvanian Alps – is keenly marketed as "the count's residence".
But including folklore-rich Transylvania – actually, "the land past the woods" – feels tangible and comprehensible in contrast to the haunted grove, which seem to be, for reasons related to radiation, climatic or purely mythical, a nexus for human imaginative power.
"Inside these woods," the guide says, "the line between truth and fantasy is remarkably blurred."
Elara is a seasoned travel writer and photographer who has explored over 50 countries, sharing unique cultural experiences and practical advice for fellow adventurers.