A passionate historian and travel writer specializing in Italian cultural heritage and ancient Roman history.
"People refer to this spot a mysterious vortex of Transylvania," remarks an experienced guide, the air from his lungs creating puffs of mist in the chilly evening air. "Numerous visitors have disappeared here, some say there's a gateway to another dimension." This expert is guiding a traveler on a nocturnal tour through commonly known as the globe's spookiest forest: Hoia-Baciu, a section spanning 640 acres of old-growth native woodland on the fringes of the metropolis of Cluj-Napoca.
Reports of bizarre occurrences here extend back hundreds of years – the forest is called after a regional herder who is reportedly went missing in the long ago, accompanied by his entire flock. But Hoia-Baciu gained international attention in 1968, when an army specialist known as Emil Barnea captured on film what he reported as a unidentified flying object suspended above a round opening in the heart of the forest.
Countless ventured inside and vanished without trace. But rest assured," he adds, addressing his guest with a grin. "Our excursions have a perfect safety record."
In the time after, Hoia-Baciu has drawn yogis, traditional medicine people, ufologists and ghost hunters from across the world, curious to experience the unusual forces said to echo through the forest.
Although it is one of the world's premier hotspots for lovers of the paranormal, the grove is under threat. The western suburbs of Cluj-Napoca – a modern tech hub of more than 400,000 people, called the innovation center of the region – are expanding, and real estate firms are campaigning for permission to clear the trees to build apartment blocks.
Barring a limited section home to locally rare oak varieties, the grove is lacking legal protection, but the guide is confident that the initiative he helped establish – a dedicated preservation group – will assist in altering this, persuading the government officials to recognise the forest's value as a tourist attraction.
When small sticks and seasonal debris split and rustle beneath their footwear, Marius tells various traditional stories and claimed ghostly incidents here.
Despite several of the accounts may be unverifiable, there is much before my eyes that is undeniably strange. Throughout the area are vegetation whose stems are curved and contorted into fantastical shapes.
Various suggestions have been given to explain the deformed trees: strong gales could have shaped the young trees, or inherently elevated radioactivity in the soil cause their strange formation.
But scientific investigations have discovered no satisfactory evidence.
Marius's excursions allow participants to participate in a little scientific inquiry of their own. As we approach the opening in the trees where Barnea captured his famous UFO photographs, he passes the traveler an EMF meter which measures energy patterns.
"We're stepping into the most energetic area of the forest," he says. "Discover what's here."
The plants suddenly stop dead as the group enters into a flawless round. The sole vegetation is the low vegetation beneath their shoes; it's clear that it's naturally occurring, and seems that this strange clearing is wild, not the work of human hands.
Transylvania generally is a location which stirs the imagination, where the border is blurred between fact and folklore. In countryside villages superstition remains in strigoi ("screamers") – otherworldly, appearance-altering creatures, who rise from their graves to haunt nearby villages.
The famous author's famous vampire Count Dracula is forever associated with Transylvania, and the historic stronghold – a Saxon monolith perched on a rocky outcrop in the mountain range – is actively advertised as "Dracula's Castle".
But including folklore-rich Transylvania – literally, "the territory after the grove" – feels solid and predictable compared to the haunted grove, which appear to be, for reasons radioactive, environmental or purely mythical, a center for creative energy.
"Within this forest," Marius says, "the line between truth and fantasy is extremely fine."
A passionate historian and travel writer specializing in Italian cultural heritage and ancient Roman history.