Baia Craiului (Királybánya, Unterhamer) – Hunedoara County
Lives destroyed, villages wiped from the map, a past erased with a single signature. Two abandoned churches — two ruins hidden from the world — still preserve the memory of the old peasants of the Cinciș–Cerna region. Surrounded by forest and water, the abandoned churches of Baia Craiului, standing at the tail of Lake Cinciș, continue to speak about the story of the „submerged” villages of Ținutul Pădurenilor.
One decree, five villages erased, two abandoned churches
I stand on the banks of the Cerna River, at the upper end of Lake Cinciș, on the road between Hunedoara and Toplița. I look toward the opposite shore, as the quiet stream flows into the lake, and from the „sea” of trees emerges the silhouette of an old building. It is one of the two ruined churches here — a solemn reminder of communist recklessness. The marshy terrain and dense vegetation make walking difficult. The path among the fallen trees is nowhere to be found. But descending beneath the bridge over the Cerna, the riverbed becomes my trail. I follow the Cerna’s course, slowly, heavy-footed through the cold water, until I reach my first stop. The Orthodox church of Baia Craiului.
Built at the beginning of the 20th century, on the site of a stone church documented as early as the 1730s, the church served the villagers of Bălana and Baia Craiului. It bore the dedication „Saints Archangels Peter and Paul.” But it was not used for long. In the early 1960s, to supply water to the steelworks in Hunedoara, the decision was made to construct a reservoir. Then came the drastic measure for the dam’s construction. Decree 177 of April 14, 1964, signed by Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, the former president of the State Council of the Romanian People’s Republic, sealed the fate of hundreds of souls.
Dozens of families displaced to create Lake Cinciș
Five settlements were destroyed to make way for the new reservoir. Thus, the villages of Bălana, Cinciș, Cerna, Moara Ungurului, and Baia Craiului disappeared beneath the water. Relocations and demolitions had already begun in 1962, as villagers rebuilt their lives in Iuba, later renamed Cinciș–Cerna. Their homes, the churches where they prayed, the graves of their ancestors — all were swallowed by the depths.
The medieval church of Cinciș, probably founded by the Corvinus, was not spared. Legend has it that, deep down in the waters, Elisabeta Mărgineanu (Morzsinai Erzsébet), the mother of John Hunyadi, former regent of Hungary, rests eternally. Saved and moved to the new church in Cinciș, the old bell remains the only living voice of a vanished era.
The Roman Catholic church of Baia Craiului — the last survivor
I leave the Orthodox church behind and head toward the only building still standing. I pass the ruins of an old blacksmith’s workshop. Its stone walls are silent witnesses to the once flourishing village founded in the 15th century. Through tall grass and debris washed ashore by the waters, I finally reach my last destination. The Roman Catholic church of Baia Craiului. It appears to have been built in the 18th century, during the reign of Empress Maria Theresa. After the flooding, water penetrated its thick walls, and you could enter the church by boat through its very doorway. But the Baroque structure stubbornly resisted, and over time the waters slowly retreated.
Before my eyes unfolds a striking scene. I stand in awe at this uncanny fusion between nature and human creation. The roof collapsed long ago, and trees have taken root inside. The windows — once adorned with splendid stained glass — retain only their frames. The organ and valuable items were saved and carried to the small church in Lingina, renamed Izvoarele at the command of communist authorities. Years have passed, yet the curse of the Pădureni people seems to linger over the Cinciș dam, built in just 14 months. The lake claims its tribute from time to time, and the spirits of the villagers displaced from the Poiana Ruscă Mountains still watch over the drowned homes beneath the water.
The two abandoned churches of Baia Craiului are not listed as historical monuments. Being too close to the lake, no authority has requested their classification. Thus, their fate remains in the hands of time, nature, and the few courageous souls who still dare to seek them.