4.8 | The Cursed Forest: The Ancient Demons of Hoia Baciu

Dare you uncover the secrets that haunt the ethereal landscapes of Transylvania? Join me, Jeremy Haig, as we traverse the hallowed ground of the Hoia-Baciu Forest, where legend has it a shepherd and his beloved succumbed to a fate as twisted as the woodland's gnarled trees. Together, we'll probe the depths of Romania's most enchanting and terrifying tales, from the timeless allure of vampires to the supernatural phenomena that challenge our perception of reality.

Step into a realm where ancient witchcraft and spectral Strigoi lurk around every corner, seamlessly woven into the fabric of Romanian life. This episode isn't just about ghost stories; it's an homage to a culture where the arcane pulses through the veins of the living. As we dissect these living traditions and firsthand accounts, you'll feel the weight of centuries-old wisdom and the chilling touch of entities that transcend the barrier between the past and present.

Our journey culminates with an expedition into the enigmatic heart of the Hoia-Baciu Forest. Here, we confront the inexplicable—a clearing devoid of life, UFO sightings that defy explanation, and apparitions that flicker just beyond sight. Beyond mere speculation, we consider the power of these mysteries to captivate our collective imagination, urging us to question what lies beyond the known. 

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:04

Oh, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo.

Speaker 2: 0:39

Once upon a time, in the heart of Transylvania, there lived a shepherd. Youthful with the allure of the bold, he dreamed dreams as boundless as the heavens. His heart, however, was not free to soar the skies, for it was tethered to a maiden whose beauty could make the morning blush with envy. Yet their love was entwined with thorns, forbidden by her father, who declared such a union against his wishes. One fateful day, as the shepherd kept watch over his flock on a solitary hill, a distressing cry shattered the morning stillness. Convinced his sheep were in jeopardy, he ventured into the shadowed woods, a realm rumoured by elders to be cursed. Within, the trees writhed as in agony, echoing the sorrow of restless spirits. Deeper, he wandered into the gloom, where sunlight feared to tread, and there the air thickened with whispers of ancient tales. Time ebbed away, leaving no trace of the shepherd or his two hundred sheep. They had been devoured by the forest. Voracious hunger for souls. The maiden, upon learning of her lover's doom, was engulfed by despair so profound it dimmed the stars. The world without him was a void she could not bear. Driven by her sorrow, she returned to the cursed forest, to the darkness that had claimed her heart. Beneath a twisted tree, she embraced her end, her life forfeit to the forest's shadows. Yet in death, her journey was not concluded. The lorekeepers of Romania, wise in ancient secrets, murmured that her spirit was reborn as a sargoi, a creature of vengeance cursed to roam the forest, they say. A sargoi finds no rest until its mortal remains are unearthed and destroyed, liberating the soul to eternity. This is the legacy of Hoibachu, a forest that guards its secrets with a fierce, dark hunger, a place where love stories become ghost tales and the line between the living and the dead blurs into oblivion. Welcome to the tale of Hoibachu Forest.

Speaker 2: 3:21

I'm Jeremy Hegg, and this is when Walls Can Talk. Throughout the ages, man has repeated the same earnest, saying more of a question, really, or perhaps even a plea if these walls could talk. But what if they do, and always have? Perhaps their stories, memories and messages are all around us. If only we would take the moment to listen. On this podcast, we reinvestigate legends and tales of the past and allow the echoes of their lessons to live on once again, informing us, educating us and sharing new and unique insight into the inner workings of the paranormal and spiritual world. Will you dare to listen? This is when Walls Can Talk the podcast.

Speaker 2: 5:24

Pennsylvania sits at the heart of Romania, cloaked not just in dense fog but also in the kind of allure that could only be described as vampirically magnetic. It's a land that seems to have sprung straight out of a tragic vampire novel or classic monster tale, complete with castles perched on hilltops to forests that whisper secrets and chant in the dark of the night. Known to many through the lens of Bram Stoker's Dracula, transylvania insists on being more than just the birthplace of a legendary vampire. Beyond its vampiric fame, it's a region of breathtaking beauty, from the imposing Carpathian Mountains, which have been standing guard like stern but slightly inattentive sentinels for millennia, to the deep, dark forest that could give anyone second thoughts about what getting back into nature really means. The history of Transylvania is as layered as a particularly complex onion, with each peel representing its time under Roman, hungarian, saxon and Ottoman influence, to name just a few. This has resulted in a cultural melange that could either be described as a historian's dream or a nightmare, depending on one's affinity for keeping track of empire handovers. The region's medieval towns Breznov, sibiu and Klujnipoca are time capsules of Transylvania's rich past, boasting gothic churches that could make you feel slightly guilty about any personal indiscretions and baroque palaces that are opulent enough to make anyone consider a career change into medieval architecture. The area is dotted with some of Europe's most well-preserved medieval fortifications, built by communities who apparently believed very strongly in the motto if you want peace, prepare for war. Or perhaps just had an excessive number of bricks on hand. But let's not forget Transylvania's darker, more mysterious side, which involves less about historical battles and more about the battles with the unknown Boke.

Speaker 2: 7:36

Tales of mythical creatures like vampires, storkoi, werewolves and witches are so ingrained in the culture that you might begin to wonder if there's a local school offering courses in advanced broom flying or practical bloodsucking 101. These stories aren't just tales told to scare children into believing. They're celebrated with festivals and rituals that just add a certain Genesequa to the nightlife. And then there's the Hoibachu Forest, the Bermuda Triangle of Romania, a place where the line between this world and the next might be just thin enough to trip over, known for its paranormal phenomena, mysterious disappearances and the kind of unexplained activities that would make even the most skeptical among us ask wait, what happened? Hoibachu is like a particularly complex James Wan film. No matter how much we think we know, there's always room for a little mystery or at the very least for getting thoroughly lost in the woods.

Speaker 2: 8:47

Transylvania in Romania often emerges in the popular imagination cloaked and missed, with Dracula leading the welcome party. Yet to reduce this vibrant region to merely a land of vampires would be like calling the Grand Canyon a particularly nice ditch. It's not wrong, but it misses the grandeur of the story entirely. Historically, transylvania has been the bell of the ball, with a plethora of names on its calling card, with the Romans, hungarians, saxons and Ottomans all taking a turn on the dance floor. This wasn't just a polite Regency-era two-step, but a series of conquests, settlements and cultural exchanges that would take a self-proclaimed conspiracy theorist to sort it all out, or at least a riotously unhinged Mori Povic episode. Each of these powers left their mark on the land, from the Roman ruins that dot the landscape to the Baroque cities that look like they've been plucked from a fairytale. The region's strategic location a lush valley ringed by the imposing Carpathian Mountains made it a coveted prize. The desirability wasn't just about good views though admittedly, the vistas are beyond perfect but about control over the trade routes that threaded through the mountains. Archaeological digs in the area have unearthed settlements that date back to the Neolithic Age, suggesting that humans have found Transylvania to be prime real estate for millennia. These early inhabitants didn't leave much in the way of written records, but the tools and remnants of their lives hint at a community that thrived here long before the castles were built and the legends of the supernatural took root.

Speaker 2: 10:34

Speaking of supernatural, transylvania's folklore is a thick stew of myths, legends and a pinch of historical facts for flavor. The region's stories reflect its history of invasions and conflicts, where tales of sturgoi, vampires and werewolves likely served as metaphors for the fear of the unknown and the dangers lurking beyond the safety of the village walls. The folklore is a broad swath of cultures and beliefs, from the drachian worship of nature to the imported myths of the medieval settlers. Today, transylvania is a vibrant region that embraces its past while looking to the future. Its cities, like Cluj-Napoca and Brasov, are bustling hubs of culture and education, where centuries-old architecture meets modern nightlife. The region's rural areas preserve traditional ways of life, with horse-drawn carts sharing roads with cars and age-old farming practices coexisting with modern agriculture.

Speaker 2: 11:42

To visit Transylvania is to step into a storybook, where every castle has a history, every forest might hide a secret and the past is always just beneath the surface. It's a land where history, myth and nature intertwine, offering visitors a rich tapestry of experiences that go far beyond the cliches. So while you might come seeking Dracula, you'll stay for the mesmerizing beauty, the warmth of its people and the layers of history waiting to be discovered. This is not just a land of myths and folklore, but also a vibrant cultural melting pot where diverse ethnic groups have woven their traditions into a vibrant living existence. This harmonious yet complex blend of cultures, including Romanians, hungarians, saxons and Roma, has contributed significantly to Transylvania's supernatural lore. The threads of folklore are woven with a flare that suggests the locals might have had a bit too much fun scaring each other over the centuries. It's a place where the line between the living and the dearly departed is as blurry as my vision might be after a long night pondering over the local plum brandy.

Speaker 2: 13:01

The Romanians. With a love for storytelling that rivals my own passion for wandering into places, I probably shouldn't have populated their lore with a host of characters that make the usual ghost stories sound like bedtime tales for the particularly brave Sturgoi. The local variety of vampires and Moroi spirits of those who just can't seem to let go, suggest that Romanians have a particularly intense relationship with the afterlife, peppered with a healthy dose of fear for the unknown. It's as if they decided that life was so interesting. Death ought to be a continuation, albeit with more floating and less walking.

Speaker 2: 13:43

Enter the Hungarians, stage left with their tales of the Taltos. Shaman-like figures with supernatural powers Live in Transylvania's history as a cultural crossroads. It's no surprise that Hungarian legends have mingled with Romanian ones, creating a shared folklore that's as rich as the region's history. It's a bit like a supernatural exchange program, where each culture contributes its most intriguing myths to the collective imagination. Not to be outdone, the Saxons threw in their lot with stories of haunted castles and ghostly knights, perhaps inspired by the very architecture they introduced to the region. Their fortified churches and imposing castles aren't just feats of medieval engineering. They're the perfect settings for tales of things that go bump in the night, proving that good real estate is as important in folklore as it is in life. And let's not forget the Roma, whose nomadic lifestyle and rich oral tradition have added yet another layer of depth to Transylvania's supernatural lore. Their stories, brimming with magic, fortune telling and curses, speak of a deep connection to nature and the spiritual world, offering a perspective that enriches the region's folklore even further.

Speaker 2: 15:23

In Romanian folklore, traditional beliefs about the soul and what lies beyond have sculpted a unique perspective on paranormal phenomena. It's as if Romanians, faced with the mysteries of existence, decided not to just embrace the enigma but to throw a full-blown party for it, inviting vampires, spirits and all manner of supernatural guests. At the heart of these beliefs lies the concept of the soul, a sort of cosmic hitchhiker that doesn't quite depart this world upon death. Instead, it lingers, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, or maybe just to keep an eye on the living, ensuring they're properly mourning, or maybe just to eavesdrop on what's being said about them. The enduring presence of the soul speaks to a deeply ingrained belief in an afterlife that's not just a continuation of existence but a parallel reality where the dead keep busy, presumably pondering the mysteries of the universe, or perhaps just watching over their descendants with a mix of pride and consternation. This mix of beliefs naturally lends itself to a heightened perception of paranormal phenomena.

Speaker 2: 16:38

In Romania, a creaking door or a sudden chill isn't just dismissed as the house settling or the weather turning. It might very well be Aunt Maria just checking in from the other side. It's a perspective that turns the paranormal into something almost mundane, a part of everyday life. Oh, that's just the strugoi from next door, one might say, with the same nonchalance as commenting on the weather. These traditions, with their blend of reverence and pragmatism, offer a window into the Romanian soul, itself Resilient, complex and always ready to find purpose in the face of the unknown. It's a world where the supernatural rubs shoulders with the living, not always in harmony, but certainly with a degree of familiarity that suggests an ongoing dialogue between the worlds of the living and the dead. After all, in Romania, the afterlife might just be the most lively place of all In this world.

Speaker 2: 17:41

Witchcraft and divination aren't just practices from dusty old books, but living traditions that pulse in the heart of those who believe and practice them deeply, much like myself. Here in Romania, these arts are as much a part of their heritage as the rich tapestry of their history, from the ancient drachy and priests divining the will of the gods to the wise women of medieval villages casting spells for love, health and protection. Witchcraft in Romania reflects the resilience of its people. It draws from a well of knowledge that predates the Roman conquest, through the tumultuous centuries under the dominion of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and into the present day. It's a blend of the ancient and the modern, where spells might be cast with the same fervor as a prayer in a church. As someone who also walks this path, I can tell you that to practice witchcraft and divination in Romania must be to engage in a deep dialogue with her history. It's to stand in a forest clearing under the full moon, feeling the whispers of the drachy and mystics who once worshipped Zalmoxis, their god of the underworld, and to seek guidance from the same celestial bodies that guided our ancestors through these very lands. It's to craft a love potion from herbs that a Saxon healer might have used, invoking the same spirits that might have been known to Romanians for centuries.

Speaker 2: 19:17

Divination the art of seeing beyond the veil, is practiced with reverence for the tools and symbols passed down through generations. Whether it's reading the future in the patterns of thrown bones, interpreting the messages hidden in a deck of tarot cards or gazing into the depths of a crystal ball, each act as a link in a chain that connects us to our past. It's an acknowledgement that, while empires have come and gone, the land and its spirits remain whispering their secrets to those willing to listen. From this perspective, witchcraft and divination are not just curiosities but vital threads in the fabric of Romanian culture. They are practices that honour the complexity of human existence, acknowledged that there are forces at work beyond what we can see and touch. As a practitioner, I too am a guardian of these traditions, a bridge between the old ways and the new world, dedicated to keeping the ancient wisdom alive for future generations.

Speaker 2: 20:35

Diving into the heart of Romanian folklore from the cozy confines of my study laptop at the ready and a cup of tea within reach allows for an exploration of the country's rich supernatural landscape without the slightest risk of encountering a stray werewolf or getting lost in an interdimensional portal. It's here, amidst the digital pages of folklore and legend, that the tales of the Stracoi, iele Moroi, pricolici and Domovoi come to life, weaving their mysteries through the dense foliage of the Hoivacu Forest. First we encounter the Stracoi, feared entities that stalk the boundaries between life and death. The Stracoi, in essence, or what you might call Romania's answer to the more garden variety vampire found in western lore, but with a twist that could only come from a land as steeped in mystery and magic as Romania. These beings are thought to be troubled spirits of the dead rising from their graves, but not just any dead they're usually those who've had a bit of a rough go in life or death, as it were, leaving behind a tangled web of unresolved issues that apparently not even death can untie. Originating from ancient Drakian and Roman mythology, where the boundaries between the living and the dead were more like suggestions than actual barriers, stracoi are said to return to the world of the living with some unfinished business.

Speaker 2: 22:05

As for their characteristics, well, let's just say you wouldn't want to meet one on a dark night. They're known for their shape-shifting abilities, their pensions for draining the vitality of the living and, interestingly, their aversion to garlic. Yes, it does seem that some stereotypes hold true, even in the realm of the supernatural. It's a creature that looks like it could have once been your neighbor, except now it has the pallor of someone who spent too much time underground. Because well, it has. The Stracoi are not your Hollywood-style vampires with impeccable style and brooding good looks. They're more the type to chill the blood rather than charm it out of you.

Speaker 2: 22:51

Encountering a Stracoi would be like stumbling upon a walking talking embodiment of all your midnight fears, on a night that is perhaps as dark as a witch's cupboard. Perhaps you're minding your own business when suddenly there's a chill in the air, a feeling that you're not alone. You turn and find yourself face to face with a being that's both familiar and utterly alien. Its eyes, deep and unsettling, seem to pierce right through you, seeing not just who you are but who you've been. Their appearance is a ghastly sight, with a skin that relates its time in the grave and movements that flirt with the unnatural. They might be dressed in outdated garb, a ghostly fashion statement from an era best left forgotten, adding to their out of time and out of place aura. The Stracoi's countenance is a mirror to their tumultuous existence, marked by the unresolved passions and grievances of their past life. To encounter a Stracoi is to experience a cocktail of fear, fascination and a sudden urge to reconsider your stance on the supernatural. It's the kind of meeting that would leave you with a story you're not quite sure you believe yourself, a tale to be whispered at gatherings when the lights are low and the night is ripe with mysteries. It's a brush with the unknown that might just make you keep your garlic on the nightstand, just in case.

Speaker 2: 24:24

The cultural significance of the Stracoi and Romanian beliefs about death and life is profound. They represent the fear of the unknown, the anxiety of unfinished business and the deep-rooted belief that death might not be the end of your troubles. It's a reminder, perhaps, to settle our debts and make peace with our enemies before we shuffle off this mortal coil or risk coming back as a very disgruntled spirit. To ward off these night-walking nuisances, romanians have historically turned to a variety of rituals and protections. Garlic, of course, is a staple in any self-respecting Stracoi deterrent kit. But for those looking for a bit more assurance, hawthorne steaks and the removal of the heart from the body of the deceased from which it originates were also recommended practices. It's a bit more hands-on than simply hanging garlic by your window, but when dealing with the undead it's always best to cover your bases.

Speaker 2: 25:50

Stepping away from the more, shall we say, gravely serious aspects of Romanian folklore, let's venture into the woods, figuratively speaking, to meet the Iele. These entities are the forest spirits of Romania, and they're as whimsical as they are beautiful, embodying the very essence of Caprice. Think of them as the guardians of ancient lands, but with the temperament of a cat that's decided. It's not quite sure whether it wants to be petted or left utterly alone. The Iele are often depicted as wild, untamed forces of nature, which is a polite way of saying they do what they want when they want. They're known for their sacred dances and enchanting music which, much like the latest pop hit, can get stuck in your head in a way that's both magical and slightly maddening. Encountering the Iele is akin to stumbling upon a rave in the middle of the forest, where the music seeps into your very soul. You're not sure if you'll emerge with profound supernatural insight or just a really odd story for your friends.

Speaker 2: 26:58

Described in folklore as stunningly beautiful, the Iele are not just forest spirits. They're the life of the party in the natural world, flitting through the trees with an elegance that would make even the most graceful ballet dancer green with envy. But it's not all fun and games. These spirits can bless or curse humans, depending on their whims. It's a bit like receiving a gift from someone who doesn't quite follow the social contract, leaving you to wonder whether you're about to open a box of chocolates or a can of worms. Imagine wandering through the ancient forests of Romania, the moon casting shadows through the trees, when the sound of ethereal music wafts through the air. Drawn by the melody, you find yourself face to face with the Iele, their dance mesmerizing their beauty otherworldly. It's a moment of pure enchantment, a brush with a wild heart of nature itself.

Speaker 2: 27:59

The moroi are fascinating creatures too, another unique variant of ghosts that tread the fine line between life and the afterlife, drawing energy from the living while haunting the Romanian countryside With characteristics as varied as the stories themselves, these beings embody the fear and fascination with death that pervades Romanian folklore. They often share the same stage with Sregoi and Pricolici and other nocturnal entities with a penchant for the darkness. Then there's the Pricolici, a character that manages to be both a werewolf and a vampire, a sort of buy one, get one free. In the supernatural world, the Pricolici is like the ultimate shapeshifter, capable of mingling in society as an ordinary human or lurking in the shadows as an animal, though it seems to have a particular fondness for its wolf form. Much like its folklore cousin, the Sregoi, the Pricolici is what you might call an undead overachiever, dying from the grave with a singular purpose to make life decidedly unpleasant for the living. The Sregoi, with its human-like qualities, might throw you off with its anthropomorphic charm, but the Pricolici is more straightforward, always dawning its wolfish guise. It's said that in life, and indeed after, those of a particularly malicious and violent disposition are earmarked to become Pricolici, continuing their reign of terror post-mortem with a supernatural flair.

Speaker 2: 29:34

The lure doesn't stop there. It twists and turns, suggesting that pregaleci are werewolves in life, who then clock in as vampires in the afterlife, showcasing an impressive versatility in the monster realm. This duality gives rise to tales of vampires with a penchant for animal impersonations wolves, dogs, owls, bats, all united with their shared hobby of nocturnal hunting. Just forward to modern times, and the legend of the pregaleci isn't just a tale to scare children into behaving. In the more remote corners of Romania, whispers of encounters with abnormally large and silent wolves persist even today, attacks that leave the locals whispering about the pregaleci.

Speaker 2: 30:24

And then there's my personal favorite, a creature as beguiling as it is troublesome the Zuborader, or the flying thing, which sounds more like a name concocted after witnessing one too many unidentified flying objects after a long night at the pub. This vampiric entity, somewhat akin to an incubus, is the supernatural heartthrob of ancient tales, combining the allure of a dark, mysterious stranger with the flight capabilities of your average superhero. Pilled as a winged and strikingly handsome young man with eyes and hair as dark as the night from which he emerges, the Zuborader has a penchant for dramatic entrances, streaking across the sky like a shooting star. His nocturnal visits to young maidens sound like the plot of a particularly steamy novel, where he engages in amorous activities while simultaneously engaging in a bit of life force and tiltering, leaving his paramours not just breathless but also rather worse for wear. Although I can't promise, if one crossed my path I'd be turning him down either, although I'm sure I would not be his type.

Speaker 2: 31:39

You know, as much as I fancy myself a rational, level-headed sort of person, there's a tiny, slightly irrational part of me that can help but feel a smidge affronted at the thought of being overlooked by a supernatural nightcrawler like the Zuborader. The notion that a mythical being who, mind you, specializes in moonlit flybys and energy pilfering, might not find me up to snuff is frankly a bit of an insult. But here I am potentially getting my metaphysical knickers in a twist over the prospect of not catching the eye of Transylvania's most eligible bachelor from the spectral realm. It's like being ghosted before you were even ghosted by an actual ghost, or close enough. I guess what I'm saying is, if you ever find yourself fretting about your appeal to the otherworldly, just remember you are in good, albeit slightly baffled, company. And how does one fend off this amorous airborne energy thief. For the rare few of you who, albeit responsibly, might want to, the solution is disarmingly simple A clove of garlic on the window sill. It's almost anticlimactic that such a dashing figure of the night could be thwarted by something that's also a key ingredient in a decent spaghetti sauce.

Speaker 2: 33:00

Yet there lies the charm of folklore, a world where the fanciful and the mundane collide in the most unexpected of ways, leaving behind stories that terrify, tantalize and tickle the imagination in equal measure. These tales, set against the backdrop of the Hoibachu Forest, suggest that the forest itself might be a nexus of such supernatural activity and a home for many, if not all, of these entities. The connections between these entities and Hoibachu highlight the forest's role in Romania's supernatural landscape. It's a living legend, a place where the echoes of past lives mingle with the energies of the Earth, creating a tapestry of tales that challenge our understanding of the world. But yet there's one more creature of folklore that lurks, as enigmatic as she is formidable Mumma padori.

Speaker 2: 33:58

Often depicted as an embodiment of the Force's wildest and most untamed aspects, she could easily be mistaken for the Woodlands' disgruntled caretaker, if not for her penchant for mischief. In mayhem, she's often described as an old, rather unsightly witch whose real estate portfolio exclusively comprises of the deepest, darkest recesses of the forest. She's not just another character in the woods. She is the spirit and the guardian, the proverbial old lady yelling at those who dare to harm her grain of bone or flout its sacred laws. Mumma padori's skillset would put most to shame, boasting abilities that range from shape-shifting to controlling natural elements. Her nature is as complex as the forest itself. Sometimes she's the malevolent force lurking behind every twig snap, and at others she's the protective spirit embodying the raw, fierce love for her domain. She's not just dealing with pesky trespassers, but also engaging with other supernatural entities in a dance as old as the forest itself.

Speaker 2: 35:14

These stories often paint her as the staunch defender of the Force's secrets, a punisher of human greed and a reminder of the respect and reverence that nature commands. Her cultural significance cannot be overstated. Mumma padori in many ways represents the Romanian ethos of respecting and fearing the natural world, a relationship built on the understanding of the delicate balance that sustains life. The moral lessons woven into her tales serve as stark reminders. The forest gives, but it can also take, especially from those who take too much, without giving back when it comes to the mysterious and paranormal-charged landscape of Hoibachu Forest. One can help but speculate about the presence of Mumma Padori or entities like her. Could her energy be what charges the forest with such a palpable sense of other worldliness? It's as if the very air in Hoibachu vibrates with stories. Each tree whispering tales of old, each shadow a reflection of the Force's ancient and unyielding power. In this supernatural theatre, mumma Padori could very well be the director orchestrating the eerie symphony that makes Hoibachu a place of endless fascination.

Speaker 2: 36:42

Nestled to the north of the rather optimistically named Long Valley, or Vallea Lunga, if you prefer, the local dialect, lies a spot known as Gura Baciului, or Shepard's Mouth, a name that conjures up images of pastoral tranquility rather than of unsolved mysteries. Yet here lies the oldest Neolithic settlement in Romania, a place that archaeologists, with their travels and indefinable curiosity, have prodded and poked from 1960 to 1994. We've unearthed a veritable treasure trove of tombs and houses. But let's be honest, it's not the ancient floor plans or shards of pottery that cause concern. It's the legends, the sort that make you question the wisdom of night-time strolls in unfamiliar woods. Take, for example, the tale of a shepherd who, along with his flock of sheep, wandered into the dark depths and simply vanished. It's a story that might make one reconsider the career viability of shepherding, especially in areas prone to consuming their inhabitants. And he's not alone.

Speaker 2: 37:52

Over a millennium has passed and it's said that more than a thousand souls have disappeared into the ether, lending the place a certain notoriety that the local tourism board probably doesn't advertise. One of the most chilling accounts involves a five-year-old girl who wandered into the woods, presumably deciding that a solo expedition was a good idea or perhaps more likely, chasing a particularly oblivious butterfly. Despite the best efforts of what one hopes were competent rescue teams, she left no trace, that is until she strolled back out five years later, still clad in her day of disappearance attire, which was miraculously an impeccable condition. Her memory of the intervening years was non-existent. One can only imagine her first dinner back. So anything new happened while I was out. Then there are the five others who weren't quite so lucky, turning up eventually, but not in the way one hopes. Their returns were posthumous, with conclusions drawn that they'd all met their ends by their own hands.

Speaker 2: 39:03

And if you're looking for the first clue that you've wandered into a place more twilight zone than pastoral paradise, tick a gander at the trees Instead of reaching for the sky in the traditional tree-like manner. Many of them appear to have heard a different calling, opting for a posture more akin to a bow or a dramatic stage lean. It's as though they're engaged in a silent dance with an invisible partner, one whose choreography leans heavily towards the avant-garde. It's the botanical equivalent of a crowded house party, where seven or eight trunks sprout from the same roots, as if they couldn't bear the thought of growing up and moving out. Researchers, scratching their heads in bewilderment, have noted that these wooden contortions and multiplications occur abruptly within blink or you'll miss it timeframes defying any logical explanations. It seems even the trees in Hoibachu are in a rush, although it's unclear where exactly they're trying to go. Venture further northwest and you'll stumble upon the forest's pièce de resistance, poyana Rotunda or the round meadow. This almost perfectly circular clearing is where vegetation apparently decided to throw in the towel, originating more than two centuries ago. This botanical bald spot has left scientists scratching their heads, as soil analysis after soil analysis has failed to reveal why nothing much grows there. It's as if the ground itself decided to keep a secret, stubbornly refusing to spill the beans to nosy researchers with their fancy equipment.

Speaker 2: 40:43

The curious case of Hoibachu Forest truly kicked off in 1953, when Alexander Sift, a biologist with an apparent penchant for mystery or perhaps a shortage of hobbies stumbled upon a phenomenon that would make the most stoic of scientists raise an eyebrow. Enthralled by the local lore, sift began frequenting the forest, only to find himself in a game of shadow tag with entities that, frankly, weren't too keen on playing by the rules. Sift, ever the diligent scientist, attempted to capture these elusive shadows on film, a task that proved as straightforward as explaining quantum physics to a cat. However, upon developing the photos, he found himself staring at not just shadows, but strange objects and silhouettes that seemed to have photo-bombed his shots, despite his certainty that they hadn't been there at the time. This unexpected cameo appearance suggested that the mystery enveloping Hoibachu might be tied to phenomena involving light and magnetism, or perhaps to photogenic spirits with a flair for the dramatic. But the forest flirtation with international stardom didn't truly ignite until August 18th 1968.

Speaker 2: 41:59

Emil Barnier, a 45-year-old military technician and apparently the only person in Romania with a camera, was enjoying a Sunday in the forest with his girlfriend and two friends as they prepared for a cozy fire. His friend's urgent call drew him back to the round meadow, where he was greeted by the sight of a large, round silver object performing a silent ballet in the sky. With the presence of mind that only a true military man or an avid photographer could muster, barnier managed to snap a few shots of the UFO as it flashed, twisted and then made a rather dramatic exit into the sky. Despite the ever-watchful eye of communist censorship, these photos managed to escape Romania, embarking on an international tour courtesy of the National Press Agency. For long, the images were gracing the pages of paranormal literature, worldwide scrutinized by experts from Europe to the United States, all of whom agreed on their authenticity. The photos weren't just remarkable for their clarity but for the tantalizing details they captured, making a compelling case for Hoibachu as a hotspot for UFO enthusiasts and conspiracy theorists alike.

Speaker 2: 43:17

In 1994, amidst the solemn backdrop of Emil Barnier's passing, kalin Turcu, a name that carries considerable weight in the Romanian ufology circles, shares a captivating piece of correspondence penned by a friend of the late military technician. The letter told a tale as intriguing as any episode of the X-Files, revealing that Barnier had been spirited away by mysterious figures to the halls of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. There, under the watchful gaze of the securitate officers, barnier was relieved of his films and the original photographs under the pretense of a temporary loan. Needless to say, the promised return was about as likely as finding a parking spot right in front of your destination, a thing that simply never happened.

Speaker 2: 44:06

Meanwhile, alexandra C, undeterred by the cloak-and-dagger antics surrounding Barnier's evidence, continued his own quest to unravel the enigma of Hoibachu, amassing an astonishing collection of over 25,000 films that captured the ethereal presence of structures invisible to the mere mortal eye. In 1974, c's path crossed with Professor Ajam Petrus, a fellow enthusiast of the paranormal. Sadly, following C's death in 1993, much of his life's work vanished into thin air, courtesy of some less than ethereal visitors to his old home. These strangers that broke in made off with the documents ensuring their swift destruction in what can only be described as a real-life plot twist. Despite this dramatic loss, the residue of evidence left behind was sufficient to furrow brows and scribble question marks in the margins of the conventional understanding of the universe. Professor Petrus remains a staunch advocate for the scientific underpinnings of these bizarre occurrences, insisting that there must be a rational explanation.

Speaker 2: 45:17

Lurking just beyond our grasp, the skies above Hoibachu have played host to a veritable air show of UFOs, captured by the keen lenses of numerous witnesses. These sightings range from fiery orbs to geometrically pleasing pyramids, proving that even extraterrestrial visitors have a flair for diversity. The force reputation for cloaking UFOs from the visible spectrum, only to reveal them upon the development of photographs, adds yet another puzzle. It's as if Hoibachu itself is a cosmic darkroom, developing snapshots of the unknown and leaving us all pondering what lies beyond the frame. In the vast encyclopedia of peculiarities that is Hoibachu Forest, there exists a category that might make you question your next selfie bioforms. These entities, which bear a striking resemblance to humans and animals, could easily blend into a family reunion photo, if not for the minor detail that they're sometimes invisible to the naked eye. Often, they assume the guise of someone who's left a significant imprint on the observer, be it Ott Milda or that pet hamster from third grade.

Speaker 2: 46:33

Adrian Petrus, a man who's seen more than his fair share of Hoibachu's wonders, recounts a strange sequence of events. In January 1975, on a brisk day perfect for uncovering mysteries or, at the very least, getting a little bit of exercise, Petrus accompanied a band of intrepid friends who stumbled upon mysterious ruins. Snap, snap, snap went their cameras capturing the moment for posterity, or so they thought. Two weeks later, still riding the high of their discovery, petrus returned only to find the ruins had pulled a disappearing act worthy of Houdini. Over time, these structures didn't just vanish from the land, they faded from the photographs as well, as if they were never more than a figment of collective imagination. And then there was that winter day when Petrus and a group of travellers observed a series of footprints in the snow, marking a path that suddenly ceased, as if the walkers had been abruptly teleported to places unknown. It's the sort of occurrence that makes one consider the practicality of snowshoes, not for traversing snow but for avoiding unexpected interdimensional travel.

Speaker 2: 47:50

The silence in Hoibachu is anything but golden. It's more a cacophony of sounds that could give a Hollywood sound effects team a run for their money. Witnesses traipsing through the woods have reported an auditory smorgasbord, the wail of ambulance sirens echoing off the trees, the ticking of clocks, the pop of exploding tires and an assortment of quick, strange screams or giggles that might make you think the forest is having a bit more fun than you are. And then there's the curious case of vanishing battery life. Venture into Hoibachu with a fully charged electronic device and you might find it as drained as if it had run a marathon, prompting speculation that the forest has a bit of an energy drinking problem. It's as though the very air siphons power, leaving your gadgets as lifeless as a discarded banana peel.

Speaker 2: 48:43

As for the fauna of Hoibachu, it seems the forest didn't get the memo on regional biodiversity. Adrian Petruc and his team, during their explorations, encountered a cast of animal characters straight out of a fantasy novel. Take, for instance, their run-in with a bustered, a bird teetering on the brink of extinction, which apparently decided to flout geographical norms and take a stroll through Hoibachu. Then there was the appearance of a large cat bearing an uncanny resemblance to a leopard. Now, last time anyone checked, leopards weren't native to the area, suggesting Hoibachu might be bending the rules of zoology or hosting a secret animal convention.

Speaker 2: 49:27

Hoibachu Forest, with its so-called active areas, seems less like a walk in the park and more like a stroll through a particularly temperamental minefield. These zones, rumored by enthusiasts to be portals to other dimensions, have a way of leaving their mark, quite literally, on those who traverse them. Burn marks, scratches, an unquenchable thirst and not for knowledge, vouts of anxiety and even unexpected naps, also known as blackouts, are just a few souvenirs you might bring back with you. During one paranormal incursion, an investigator got a first-hand demonstration of Hoibachu's hospitality when they were unexpectedly thrown to the ground by hands unseen, suggesting that whatever resides in the forest might not be the biggest fan of visitors. Andrei Dorobonstev, a professor and physicist who presumably enjoys delving into the unexplained when not grappling with the laws of physics, has shared extraordinary tales. He recounts a journey by a group of paranormal aficionados into the heart of Bachu, a trip that took a turn for the surreal when their photographs revealed faces distorted to the point of having multiple heads. Whether this was a trick of the light or a trick of the forest remains a topic of debate. The forest's penchant for theatrics extends to unsuspecting television crews and drivers. In one incident, a driver slammed on the brakes, convinced he had hit an elderly lady who appeared from the ether. Despite a thorough search within a one-kilometer radius, no trace was found of the mysterious figure, leaving everyone to wonder if Hoibachu had momentarily turned into a pedestrian crossing for the spectral. And then there are those who venture in for what they assume will be a brief exploration, only to emerge to the surprise of search parties that had been organized in their absence. Time, it seems, has a different meaning in Hoibachu, where a short walk can turn into an inadvertent game of hide and seek with concerned locals.

Speaker 2: 51:36

In 2009, the web was a buzz with a tale that sounded like it was straight out of a campfire story session. A group of intrepid souls decided to spend three nights in the embrace of the woods, presumably because the allure of a comfy bed and indoor plumbing just didn't cut it. On their first day, while on expedition to fetch water from a creek a task that already sounds like the beginning of every horror movie ever they encountered an old man. He limped amongst the trees, projecting a vibe that screamed I'm about to be a central character in your story. His deep blue eyes held a gaze that could only be described as unsettlingly intense, making the group of travelers pause. Politeness prevailed and they greeted him, assuming he'd emerged from a nearby sheepfold. Perhaps tired of the sheep's company, the old man, in a scene that lacked only a fog machine to complete the eerie atmosphere, inquired about the route to Cluj-Napoca. His lack of baggage was notable. The travelers, ever helpful, directed him to follow a tire-tracked path, a route so straightforward even Hansel and Gretel could manage it. He thanked them with the air of someone who's just been told the Wi-Fi password and limped away. Upon returning to their camp, the group discovered that their friends hadn't seen any mysterious limping visitors, even one that would have had to have crossed the clearing in order to make it back to town. A search ensued, but the old man had vanished. Perhaps deciding Cluj wasn't for him after all.

Speaker 2: 53:19

Now one might chalk this up to pure fiction, a tale spun from the threads of an overactive imagination, yet it stands as a quintessential example of the unexplained phenomena that seem to revel in catching us off guard, especially in settings already ripe for mystery. It's little wonder the BBC once dubbed Hoibachu as the world's most haunted forest. With stories like these, it's as if the forest itself delights in maintaining its trip-advisor rating as the go-to destination for those looking to add a dash of supernatural intrigue to their outdoor adventures, as the locals call it, when they're feeling particularly mystical. The Costco of interdimensional gateways is rumoured to be a hotspot for astral travelers, souls on a 40-day layover after death and entities that didn't quite make the cut for our dimension Spiritualist wax poetic about the forest being a cosmic revolving door between the astral plain and our more pedestrian earthly realm, suggesting it's where souls of the dearly departed hang out, presumably because the afterlife lacks decent waiting rooms. Skeptics, on the other hand, lean back in their armchairs, stroking their chins, and declare it all a splendid bit of storytelling, the kind that makes for good television on a slow news day. Yet those who ventured into the thick of it with their gadgets and earnest expressions conclude that while the forest's antics are somewhat understated, they're as persistent as a salesman on commission, a phenomenon that most visitors would reluctantly nod in agreement with.

Speaker 2: 54:53

The allure of Hoybatchu, much like that mystery novel you can't put down. Even though it's way past bedtime, only grows with each passing year. It draws in a colourful crowd. And then there are the guests of honour wikens, witches and satan worshippers, for whom controversial in some circles might be a mild descriptor. They regard the forest as a kind of supernatural battery pack, turbocharging their spells with that good ol Hoybatchu juice.

Speaker 2: 55:24

Despite the forest's popularity as a paranormal tourist trap, a concrete explanation for its phenomena remains as elusive as a shadow in the dark. But then again, perhaps the truth of Hoybatchu, much like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. After all, in a world where reality often seems stranger than fiction, who's to say where one ends and the other begins Diving into the heart of Hoybatchu Forest, from the perspective of someone who's both a witch and a medium, yet is never physically stepped into its mysterious embrace, offers a unique blend for me of speculation and educated guesswork. My experience in education suggests that the odd occurrences within this Romanian enigma could be more than just tales spun for the thrill-seekers among us. Hoybatchu is, after all, not just a forest. It's a nexus of energetic portals and laylines which, from a witch's perspective, are like the highways of spiritual and supernatural energies crisscrossing the earth. These invisible lines connect ancient and sacred sites, channeling earth's magnetic energies and potentially creating gateways to other dimensions. The forest's reputation as a paranormal hotspot might well be due to its placement on these powerful lines, making it a beacon for otherworldly entities and a playground for the souls of the deceased. It's thought that these souls linger in such an era of energetically charged places, possibly explaining the numerous sightings and experiences reported in the area.

Speaker 2: 57:08

Considering my background, it's tempting to conjecture that ancient rituals or practices might have imbued this place with its power or opened doorways to realms beyond our understanding. The forest's dense atmosphere and eerie quietude are ripe for the kind of rituals that draw on the earth's latent energies, possibly amplifying the forest's reputation as a portal between worlds. Moreover, the idea that Hoybatchu might sit atop an early Romanian settlement cursed by a tragic fate adds yet more layers to its mystery. Such settlements often leave behind echoes of their past lives, emotional imprints and spiritual residues that might manifest as the strange phenomena experienced by visitors today. The tales of Emil Barnea's UFO sightings, mysterious apparitions and the physical effects on those who dare to explore the forest only deepen the enigma.

Speaker 2: 58:05

These stories spanning decades suggest a continuity of phenomena that's hard to dismiss as mere coincidence or fiction. They hint at the presence of forces or entities that exist just beyond the veil of our reality, observable only in moments when that veil thins, such as in Hoybatchu. We've just embarked on a metaphorical journey through the deep, whispering force of Transylvania, tiptoeing around the edges of the known and the unknowable. In this episode, we've danced with shadows and whispered to the ghosts of lore, delving deep into the heart of what makes us human, our insatiable curiosity for the mysteries that skirt the boundaries of our reality. So why fuss over ancient tales and creatures of the night? It's simple, really.

Speaker 2: 58:56

These stories, these fragments of folklore handed down through the ages, they're the wildflowers in the vast meadow of human culture. They thrive in the dark, nourished by our fears and desires blooming into tales that captivate, terrify and inspire. They remind us that the world is bigger, stranger and more wonderful than we can possibly imagine. In the grand scheme of things, these stories are our way of making sense of the darkness, of facing the vast unknown with the defiant stare. They're about finding light in the darkest of places, about the power of the human spirit to confront and coexist with the mysteries that surround us. But here's the kicker what if, in peeling back the layers of these tales, we find reflections of our own society, echoes of our collective psyche? What if, in exploring the eerie and the unexplained, we discover not just tales of fear and wonder, but insights into the very fabric of our being?

Speaker 2: 1:01:09

So, it is a very snowy day in Denver today as I'm recording and editing, taking advantage of this snowstorm to crank out new episodes for you. I want to also remind any of you that our avid fans of cinematic secrets, the dark side of the silver screen, which is our sister podcast on this network, are returning with a brand new episode delving into Joan Crawford, faye Dunaway Camp and the incredible movie Mommy Dearest, which will be releasing on Wednesday. For this one, I will release it both on the Windwalls can talk platform as well as cinematic secrets, just to remind you that we're here again and that we're creating podcast episodes on both series. We are obviously still on our weekly cadence for Windwalls can talk. We are on a bi weekly cadence for cinematic secrets and you can look forward to a new episode of monthly tarot magic for the month of April, dropping on April 1st. We also have began recording the next podcast that will be joining our network, the Royal Road, legendary journeys and drag pageantry, which will be dropping as a part of our pride celebration during the month of June. Each podcast will celebrate the queer community in some way, shape or form once we arrive to June.

Speaker 2: 1:02:51

So I'm I have a lot going on and a lot that we're working towards for you guys. So follow us on Instagram at when walls can talk, with underscores for spaces. We're on tick tock. We're on Facebook as a Facebook group. We also have an email list that's linked in the bottom of your show notes here, so get involved. Let us know your stories. If you would like to submit a story towards a listener episode in the future, you can email those to Jeremy at whenwallscantalktarotcom. Thank you for listening. If you're in Denver, enjoy the snow, and I will catch you on Wednesday with our next episode of cinematic secrets.