The Codrul al Nerei forest in Romania has long held a reputation for mysterious disappearances. Most notably, and unverifiably, in 1910 it is said that a five-year-old girl went missing, only to reappear in 1922, showing no signs of having aged.
The forest has been plagued with genuine disappearances over the years, strengthening its ominous reputation.
In 1993, a group of eight children and three adults headed into the forest on a hike from a local school, and were never seen again. No bodies were ever recovered.
In 2002, an experienced hiker and travel writer, Mircea Ionescu, set off into the forest intending to spend three days hiking across a small section of it. He was found two weeks later, terrified out of his mind and utterly insane. He died in 2005 of unknown causes, never having recovered his sanity. It proved impossible to obtain a coherent account from him of what had happened. It has been speculated that he accidentally consumed some poisonous plant or other, resulting in his mental collapse.
The forest’s disturbing reputation repels most people, but attracts others.
I cannot tell you how I came across the following story; only that the time has come to tell it, after a long-held silence.
In 2007, four friends set out to hike across the Codrul al Nerei, following the ridge that traverses the entire forest. All four worked in the biotech industry, in Cambridge, England.
Trevor, large and exuberant, was the most experienced hiker of the four. It was his idea to hike the forest trail. Joe’s experience of hiking, at the other extreme, was little to none.
They departed from a guesthouse in the village of Izvorani at the south-west end of the trail on March 6th, aiming to reach Lupeni at the other end of the trail no later than March 12th.
Initially, Joe found the trail disappointing. After some initially promising views of blue-grey mountains half-covered in snow, the trail ascended into thick scrubby woodland, where the only things visible were low tangled trees and bushes.
“If it’s going to be five days of slogging endlessly along muddy trails, I wish I hadn’t come.” Joe complained, as they sat on a rock overlooking the Nera valley, four hours into the walk.
“Nah.” said Trevor. “It’ll get better. The trees get bigger further along and we’ll be higher up.”
The start of the trail is indeed rather gloomy and monotonous, as many others have noted.
“Four hours and you’re already complaining?” said Owen. “You have to give it a chance.”
“All right.” said Joe. “If Trev says it’ll get better than that’s fine. I just thought it was all going to be like this. Five days of this and we’ll all be insane at the end of it.”
“I quite like it.” said Richard.
“You would.” said Joe.
They had brought two tents, Joe sharing with Richard and Trevor with Owen.
When they made camp for the night, Joe found himself disturbed by the sounds that emerged from the dark impenetrable forest.
“Wolves!” Joe exclaimed. “Listen!”
“They’re afraid of people. Don’t worry.” said Richard.
“How do you know? Are you some kind of wolf expert now? You’ve probably never even been in a forest before.”
“I looked at some guide books.”
“Oh great, guide books, I’m sure they’re definitely tell people if they’re in danger of being eaten by wolves. That’ll really help tourism.”
“I think they would tell people.” said Richard reflectively. “It’s hardly to their advantage if tourists get eaten by wolves.”
“What if they’ve got rabies?”
“They’re not going to get through the tent.”
“A wolf could easily get through a tent.”
“Now you’re an expert on wolves?”
Joe pulled his sleeping bag around his head, listening nervously to the howling.
By the afternoon of the second day, they were almost halfway along the trail and the hike had so far proceeded without incident.
It was at this point, while traversing a narrow path above a nearly-vertical drop of perhaps five metres, that Joe lost his footing and rolled all the way to the bottom. The others quickly found a way to scramble down and join him.
“Are you all right?” said Richard.
“I’ve twisted my ankle.” said Joe, grimacing.
Joe found he was able to stand, but walking was painful.
“Best thing is to force yourself to walk, otherwise it’ll swell up.” said Trevor.
“Easy for you to say!” said Joe, bitterly. “It hurts like hell.”
“We’re not going to be able to do the whole rest of the trail.” said Owen. “We’ll have to find a shortcut or something.”
“There’s no shortcuts.” said Trevor, shaking his head.
Joe was almost crying with pain.
“We’ll phone for rescue.” said Richard. “Owen, you’ve got a phone. Does it work?”
Owen took out his phone, a tiny thing capable only of making calls and sending messages.
“No signal.” he said.
“Has anyone else got a phone?” Richard asked.
No-one else had a phone.
Trevor spent ten minutes trying to persuade Joe to walk until Owen and Richard finally told him that Joe clearly couldn’t walk and it wasn’t fair to keep trying to make him walk.
“We’re going to have to go and get help.” said Owen. “There must be a farm or something somewhere round here.”
“We might be able to get a signal if we go higher.” said Richard.
“Surely it makes more sense to go lower.” said Owen. “The last thing we need to do now is climb further up the mountain.”
The problem of who should leave and where they should go, and who should stay with Joe, was a difficult one to solve, requiring extensive negotiations.
The nearest place that might be inhabited was an anonymous cluster of buildings marked on the map about thirty miles away. It was too far away to get there by nightfall. They had only two tents, and both tents were too small to fit three people in one tent.
Two of them would have to go to find help and one person would have to stay with Joe, but no-one wanted to be left alone with Joe.
Joe was prone to brittle, irritable moods and incessant complaints at the best of times, and now that he was injured, he was far worse than usual. Richard and Trevor knew Joe via Owen, who had once rented a room in a house where Joe also happened to live, but Owen was the least inclined to be left alone with Joe. On the other hand Joe didn’t much like the idea of being left alone with Trevor, whom he found unsympathetic.
In the end Joe was left with no say in the matter, and Richard and Owen headed off together to find the village, while Trevor stayed with Joe. This decision was announced to Joe as a fait accompli.
Richard was no more skilled than Owen in finding his way through the mountainous forest. His experienced of navigating the great outdoors was limited to cycling tours, but he led the way nonetheless, due to his greater decisiveness.
“What we’re going to do,” he said to Owen, pointing at the map, “is head east down this trail here, then cut through the forest till we hit this road.”
“Shouldn’t we stick to the paths?” said Owen.
“Then it’s nearly twice as long. We should at least try to see if the shortcut’s navigable.”
“All right, but let’s try not to get into anything we can’t handle.”
By the time darkness fell, they had covered at least fifteen miles on a trail which, at times was barely discernible.
When they pitched their tent for the night, they must have felt themselves to be far off the beaten track, and really in the absolute middle of nowhere.
It’s impossible to know with any certainty the details of what happened to them after that, but we may reconstruct a plausible sequence of events.
We may imagine that, at night, they lay awake listening to the wolves, which now seemed much closer to their tent than previously.
During the early hours of the morning, when the sky had lightened in preparation for dawn but there was still no actual sign of the sun itself, Richard left the tent for some reason. Almost certainly he simply intended to urinate, some short distance from the tent.
We don’t know whether he sensed the presence of the rabid wolf before it attacked him, or whether the attack came out of the blue. Owen was awakened by the sound of terrified screaming. When he saw what was happening, he immediately went back into the tent to find a knife. Then he bravely ran over to help Richard.
The deranged wolf was so focused on fighting Richard that Owen was able to inflict a mortal wound upon it, but not without sustaining a nasty bite himself, on his ankle.
It was too late for Richard. His wounds were too severe to survive. Half of his face and neck had been partially torn away.
The wolves in Romania are not large and they are usually scared of people, but when infected with rabies, they are capable of inflicting serious damage on a human being.
Owen could only watch Richard die. Probably Richard, if he was still able to speak, told Owen to find the village as quickly as possible and obtain medical assistance. A series of injections can usually prevent rabies from developing in those who’ve been bitten by infected animals.
It appears that Owen survived for two days after this, wandering in the forest, steadily losing blood from the wound on his ankle. Likely he got as far as the vertical cliff edge that crosses their intended route, turned back again, and eventually became hopelessly lost. Cause of death was probably hypothermia exacerbated by loss of blood.
Meanwhile, Joe was becoming increasingly paranoid.
As darkness fell, Trevor made a fire. He and Joe huddled around it for warmth.
“Listen!” said Joe. “We’re surrounded by wolves. I’d be easy prey for them. Maybe we should be in the tent. Do you think they can tear through the tent?”
“Doubt it.” said Trevor. “They’re afraid of people and fire. Don’t worry about them.”
“I feel like we’re going to die out here. I’m going to die, at least. You can walk.”
“Tomorrow they’ll get to those houses, yeah?” said Trevor. “They’ll call for help and probably a helicopter will be here by evening.”
“It’s really stupid that we didn’t bring painkillers.” said Joe miserably. “My ankle really hurts.”
“It’s just a sprain.”
“I think it’s broken.”
“Nah. You’d be in more pain.”
“I am in more pain.” said Joe, tears in his eyes.
The sun had long since set when Joe saw the face in the trees.
“It wasn’t human, Trev.” he said, in a panic. “If it was human, there was something horribly wrong with it.”
“It’s just your imagination. You probably saw a goat or something.”
“It wasn’t a goat!”
“Look, why don’t I go and have a look?”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I won’t leave you. I’ll just go over there a bit and check with the torch.”
Eventually Joe consented to this plan. Trevor scoured the trees in their immediate vicinity with a torch.
“Nothing there.” he said, sitting down by the fire again.
“I know what I saw.” said Joe.
As the evening wore on, Trevor grew increasingly annoyed with Joe’s complaints. He tried to be reassuring, but eventually he snapped.
“If you had just watched where you were stepping, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“It wasn’t my fault. It was just an accident. Anyone can have an accident.”
“I don’t have accidents. You know why? Because I watch where I tread. I’m careful.”
They fell into an outright argument, which ended with Trevor retreating to the tent, announcing that he was going to sleep, and Joe hurriedly dragging himself over to the tent on his knees, not wanting to be left alone.
When the following night arrived with still no sign of help materialising, Joe grew despondent.
“Something’s happened to them.” he said.
“They must have got lost.” said Trevor. “They’ll find their way eventually. It’s not that complicated. As long as they head away from the mountains it’ll be fine. Eventually they’ll reach the valley. There’s villages in the valley.”
“How long would that take?”
“Could be a couple of days in the worst case.”
“We haven’t got food for two more days.”
“We won’t starve to death in two days. Tomorrow morning I’ll fetch more water.”
Three more days went by no sign of rescue, and they were forced to reluctantly, and correctly, conclude that Richard and Owen were dead.
By then they were extremely hungry.
“I’m going to have to go and get help.” said Trevor, as they were sitting by a fire after sunset.
“You can’t leave me here!” said Joe.
“We’ll starve to death if I don’t.”
“People will be searching for us by now. We’re on a well-known trail. People know where we’ve gone. They’ll find us.”
Trevor shook his head.
“We’re not on the main trail.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“I wanted to try something a bit more adventurous. No-one comes down this trail at this time of year, mate.”
“I told everyone we were going along the trail that’s marked on the map. You know, the what’s it called —”
“Yeah, it’s not that trail. It’s not on all the maps. I’ve got a special map.”
“Special map?” said Joe, hardly able to believe his ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s an old map used by miners. I gave it to Owen and Rich.”
“So we’ve got no map and anyone who’s looking for us will be looking in the wrong place? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Basically, yeah.”
Joe began crying softly.
“Hey, don’t cry, mate.” said Trevor.
“My ankle hurts and I’m hungry!” said Joe.
Trevor shifted uncomfortably, wondering what to do.
Then the sound of breaking tree branches made them both look up.
“What’s that?” Joe asked fearfully.
“Probably an animal.” said Trevor.
“An animal?”
“A stag or something.”
The thing, whatever it was, stumbled and lurched towards them, until they could make out its outline in the light of the fire and the half-moon.
“What the hell?” said Trevor, and he rose to his feet and scrambled hastily backwards.
In the dim light they saw a figure, apparently human, but dressed in rags and bearing the face of a corpse. Its skin appeared grey and partially rotten. Upon the crown of its head were only wisps of white hair. As it staggered towards them, its head bobbed uncannily from side to side.
Joe tried to pull himself backwards along the damp earth.
The figure stretched out a hand towards them and groaned. They could smell its decomposing flesh.
“Get away from us!” Joe screamed.
The figure spoke.
“I can help you.” it said, coming to a halt a few metres away from them. “I’ve been watching you. You have no food. You’re injured. I can help you.”
“Who are you?” said Trevor.
The figure stood still for some moments, catching its breath. Then it said, “I know my appearance is alarming. I can explain. Don’t worry. I’m not infectious. At my house I have medical equipment and food. I’m a doctor.”
Joe and Trevor exchanged frightened and baffled glances.
“OK.” said Trevor. “Where’s your house?”
The figure turned and pointed into the forest with a quavering index finger.
“How far?” Trevor asked.
“Not far.” the figure rasped. “Not far at all. You can make it there.”
“I’m not going anywhere with that thing.” said Joe quietly.
“We’ve no choice, mate.” said Trevor. “Take a hiking stick and lean on me. You can hop.”
The figure began to shuffle off back into the forest.
“Let me help you up.” said Trevor.
Joe reluctantly allowed Trevor to pull him to a standing position, and they began to follow the figure, Joe hopping and grimacing.
The figure’s pace was slow but even so, with Joe unable to walk properly, they were barely able to keep up with it.
Soon they arrived at a tiny run-down shack in the depths of the forest.
The figure opened the door and went in.
“Come!” it said, as loudly as it could seemingly manage, barely able to speak for wheezing.
Inside, they found the figure sat at a wooden table in the one-room hut. Trevor helped Joe onto an old dusty wooden chair.
The smell of decomposing flesh in the hut was strong but bearable.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” said the figure. “I am Dr. Oldovan. Let me catch my breath and I will bring you food. Then I will fetch medicine for your ankle.”
“What are you doing here in the forest?” Trevor asked him.
“I came here a long time ago, to research the healing properties of certain minerals in the soil. You see, the animals here live an unnaturally long time, and hunters noticed that they showed remarkable powers of recovery from injuries that should be fatal.
“I am one-hundred and fifty-three years old. I myself have been preserved by the remarkable powers of the substance. Unfortunately I have been preserved rather imperfectly, as you can see. I am no longer fit for the company of my fellow human beings.”
“A hundred and fifty-three!” Trevor exclaimed. “Why don’t you share your findings with the scientific community?”
Dr. Oldovan smiled wearily.
“The world is not ready for what I have discovered. Imagine a world filled with people like me. It would not do. Not at all. Now, let me bring you some food. You will find my food perfectly acceptable, in spite of the appearance of the chef.”
He rose unsteadily and went to a stove at the side of the hut, where he began to cook.
“Fresh rabbit stew, with carrots I have grown myself.” he said. “I can heal your injured ankle, but I must ask you one thing in return.”
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
“You must never tell anyone about me, or about the substance. Never. The secret must remain here, with me. Can you swear to this?”
“No problem.” said Trevor.
“Of course.” said Joe.
The doctor turned around to face them, leaning back against the bench where he was preparing some kind of hot tea, in mugs that looked home-made.
“I need you both to swear. ‘I will never tell anyone about Dr. Oldovan or the substance’. Say it.”
Joe and Trevor duly repeated Oldovan’s words.
“Good.” said Oldovan.
He brought them steaming mugs of tea, which, in spite of their hesitation, they both found surprisingly refreshing, and a little later he brought bowls of stew, which Trevor pronounced delicious and which even Joe, who under normal circumstances was a vegetarian, had to admit brought welcome relief from hunger.
After they had eaten, Oldovan opened a hatch in the floor and began to unsteadily and slowly descend into a dark cellar.
“My laboratory is down here.” he said. “I will fetch medicine.”
“I’m not taking any medicine of his!” Joe hissed, when they judged Oldovan to be out of earshot.
“If it works maybe we’ll be able to walk out of here.” said Trevor. “Otherwise I’ll have to leave you here while I get help.”
“You can’t leave me with him!” Joe protested.
“Take the medicine then.” said Trevor. “If it works, it could be the find of the century.”
“You can’t tell anyone about it. You promised him you wouldn’t.”
“He’s not right in the head. If he’s really got a drug that can keep someone alive to a hundred and fifty-three, do you understand what that means?”
“Look at the state of him!” said Joe.
“It means we’re going to be billionaires.” said Trevor.
They continued to argue for a few minutes, falling silent abruptly as Dr. Oldovan emerged from the cellar carrying an old glass beaker filled with a milky blue liquid.
He placed it in the middle of the table with an unsteady hand.
“Drink that.” he said to Joe.
Trevor made a face at him in which he tried to convey the idea that Joe would either be staying alone in the forest with only Dr. Oldovan for company, or else drinking the medicine.
“It won’t hurt you. It will heal you.” said Oldovan.
Joe took the beaker, raised it to his lips and, making a sudden decision, downed the contents.
“Good.” said Oldovan. “Now let me show you back to your tent. There isn’t room for you to stay here. I will give you some hazelnuts to sustain you on your journey home. There is a trail near here that leads directly south. If you start in the morning, you will arrive at a village before nightfall.”
Oldovan tottered out of the door and they followed.
By the time they had arrived back at their tents, Joe was already able to gingerly put a little weight on his injured ankle.
Oldovan turned and lurched back off into the trees.
“Remember your promise.” he said over his shoulder.
The following morning, Joe awoke to find his ankle completely healed.
“When this drug is properly commercialised it’s going to make us rich beyond belief.” said Trevor. “We’re talking private jets, sports cars, villas, private islands, even.”
“You can’t tell anyone. He’s right, anyway. Imagine a world where everyone looks like him.”
“Nah.” said Trevor. “We’ll get you home, then I’m coming back here with a team of scientists. He’s no right to keep this to himself.”
“Trev,” said Joe soberly, “you promised.”
“If he’d made us promise to keep a cure for polio under wraps, would you honour that promise?”
“It’s not a cure for polio.”
“It’s better. It’s a cure for everything. For broken ankles. For every disease that affects people when they age.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“You can’t stop me. You have no right to stop me, and you can’t.”
After eating a breakfast of hazelnuts, they packed up the tent and began walking back along the path. Soon they found the turning south that the doctor had told them about. They turned off the main track and followed it.
They had walked for six hours and estimated themselves to have reached the halfway point when Trevor began to feel sick.
“Let’s sit down for a bit.” Joe suggested. “Take a rest.”
They sat, but Trevor only felt worse and worse. He gradually turned completely white.
“You’ll have to go on without me.” he said, pale as a sheet. “Get them to pick me up, and arrange a search party for Rich and Owen.”
“You might feel better in a bit.” said Joe.
But then blood began to stream from Trevor’s nose. Trevor wiped it away with the back of his hand, then stared blankly at the blood.
“That old bloke’s done something to me.” he said.
“I feel fine.” said Joe. “Do you think it’s possible he overheard us talking?”
“I —” began Trevor, but then he keeled over backwards.
“Trev!” shouted Joe in alarm.
Trevor’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to jerk spasmodically, his neck contorting itself hideously, pulling his head sideways.
Two minutes later, while Joe desperately tried to find some way of helping him, he stopped breathing.
Joe had little idea about any kind of emergency first aid techniques, but he tried his best to revive Trevor. And yet, there was something curiously final and still about Trevor’s body, which remained stubbornly inert, with his head twisted oddly to one side.
Eventually Joe had no choice but to leave him and make his way towards the village.
Five hours later he arrived at a small cluster of houses. No-one there spoke English, but he managed to make an elderly couple understand that there was some kind of emergency, and that he needed a telephone.
Half an hour later a helicopter landed in the village and the paramedics took Joe to show them where to find Trevor’s body. They found the tent and other supplies that Joe had left there, but there was no sign of Trevor.
The bodies of Richard and Owen were found the following day.
Trevor’s body was never recovered.
