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"They call this location an enigmatic zone of Transylvania," states a local guide, his breath creating clouds of condensation in the chilly night air. "Numerous visitors have gone missing here, it's thought it's a portal to a parallel world." This expert is leading a guest on a evening stroll through frequently labeled as the planet's most ghostly forest: Hoia-Baciu, a square mile of ancient indigenous forest on the edges of the Transylvanian city of Cluj-Napoca.

Centuries of Mystery

Stories of bizarre occurrences here date back centuries – the forest is titled for a local shepherd who is believed to have disappeared in the far-off times, accompanied by 200 of his sheep. But Hoia-Baciu gained global recognition in 1968, when a defense worker known as Emil Barnea photographed what he reported as a unidentified flying object hovering above a circular clearing in the centre of the forest.

Countless ventured inside and never came out. But don't worry," he adds, turning to his guest with a smirk. "Our excursions have a 100% return rate."

In the decades since, Hoia-Baciu has brought in yogis, spiritual healers, UFO researchers and ghost hunters from worldwide, eager to feel the mysterious powers said to echo through the forest.

Contemporary Dangers

Despite being one of the world's premier hotspots for lovers of the paranormal, the forest is facing danger. The outlying areas of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of over 400,000 residents, called the tech capital of Eastern Europe – are encroaching, and developers are advocating for permission to remove the forest to build apartment blocks.

Aside from a limited section containing area-specific oak varieties, the grove is lacking legal protection, but Marius is confident that the initiative he co-founded – a local conservation effort – will contribute to improving the situation, encouraging the government officials to recognise the forest's importance as a tourist attraction.

Spooky Experiences

While branches and fall foliage break and crackle beneath their shoes, Marius recounts various traditional stories and alleged ghostly incidents here.

• A well-known account recounts a little girl going missing during a family picnic, only to return half a decade later with complete amnesia of the events, showing no signs of aging a moment, her clothes shy of the smallest trace of dirt.
• Regular stories detail mobile phones and camera equipment inexplicably shutting down on stepping into the forest.
• Feelings vary from complete terror to states of ecstasy.
• Some people report noticing strange rashes on their skin, hearing disembodied whispers through the woodland, or experience palms pushing them, although sure they are alone.

Scientific Investigations

While many of the accounts may be unverifiable, there is much clearly observable that is certainly unusual. All around are plants whose stems are bent and twisted into fantastical shapes.

Different theories have been proposed to account for the deformed trees: strong gales could have altered the growth, or inherently elevated radioactivity in the soil explain their strange formation.

But scientific investigations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.

The Legendary Opening

The expert's walks allow participants to take part in a modest investigation of their own. As we approach the opening in the woods where Barnea took his famous UFO images, he passes the visitor an ghost-hunting device which registers electromagnetic fields.

"We're venturing into the most active part of the forest," he comments. "See what you can find."

The vegetation suddenly stop dead as they step into a perfect circle. The only greenery is the short grass beneath our feet; it's clear that it's not maintained, and looks that this unusual opening is wild, not the work of people.

Fact Versus Fiction

This part of Romania is a area which stirs the imagination, where the line is blurred between reality and legend. In rural Romanian communities superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – undead, shapeshifting creatures, who emerge from tombs to terrorise regional populations.

The novelist's famous vampire Count Dracula is always connected with Transylvania, and Bran Castle – a medieval building situated on a cliff edge in the Transylvanian Alps – is heavily promoted as "the count's residence".

But including myth-shrouded Transylvania – actually, "the territory after the grove" – feels solid and predictable in contrast to these eerie woods, which seem to be, for factors radioactive, environmental or purely mythical, a center for human imaginative power.

"Inside these woods," the guide says, "the line between reality and imagination is very thin."