Don't try this at home in the back garden. Instead, get yourself to Tara tomorrow and spend this shortest of nights sleeping out under the stars. It's what I did last year, though not intentionally - I'd brought the tent but forgotten to pack the tent pegs, writes Mary Russell
Tara, benign hill, is receptive to all comers. It was dusk when I arrived, and small groups of people were gathering in readiness for the sunrise ceremonies next morning. A mother with tent and small son disappeared over the hill in search of a quiet spot for the night. A woman placed candles in jam jars along the boundary of the hillside, where they would glow through the short night. With a friend, I walked across the grass to see Tara's healing thorn tree.
Already in place with properly erected tent was Adge, a 21st-century druid. I knew this because he was wearing a rustic outfit and carried a formidable staff he had carved from bog oak, its upper part a twisting snake with an amber eye. Adge was originally a Christian from Falmouth: "Christianity didn't provide answers to my questions," he says, so he now he lives in Kells, Co Meath and teaches wood carving and dowsing.
In the old churchyard, someone had left a candle to burn all night on the grave of a young man. The small red light shone comfortingly among the headstones. By midnight, the hill was peaceful, the daylight almost gone. A few candles glimmered on the tops of the ancient mounds: Rath Grainne, the Mound of the Synods, Cormac's House.
I made a mattress of fern, spread my sleeping bag on top, wrapped my small, lightweight tent round me against the inevitable dew and bedded down. In an hour, the stars had appeared overhead and, two hours later, the faint hint of light appeared in the east.
It's hard to sleep at solstice time when the sun hangs poised in the sky and the earth holds its breath before starting its long slow journey through the hot days down the golden autumn and the eventual dark sleep of winter.
A couple called out to each other, their disembodied voices hooting like owls on the strange night air. A restless few leaped whooping among Tara's slopes and, eventually, with the hint of light becoming a certainty, I made my way over to the Royal Enclosure in the middle of which is the standing stone - the Lia Fáil or Stone of Destiny which will scream should the rightful King of Ireland put his foot on it.
The ceremonies began with Annette Peard softly drumming the rising sun. Annette is one of three members of the Queen Tephi of Tara Grove, the others being Lia Borza from Tara and Alex McAllister - a Malahide garage proprietor in another life. Three druids makes a Grove, by the way.
On another mound, a different Grove did its sun worship bit but no, this was not a druidic split: Tara has room for everyone and tomorrow druids are expected from as far away as the States and Australia, not to mention Kildare.
By 9 a.m., the sun was settling in for a long, hot day. Aided by Adge, we tried our hand at dowsing, using wire coat hangers; we sprawled on the soft, sheep-cropped grass round the well as storyteller Eddie Lenihan wove his magic; we listened to astronomer Richard Moore explain that the Boyne estuary is a reflection of the Milky Way; and we visited the antiquarian bookshop owned by well-known equestrian commentator Micheal Slavin.
Then, as the day got hotter, trays of tea and cakes from Maguires café were carried out to the field opposite, children ran around in bare feet, and there was nothing else to do but sit on the warm stone wall with an ice cream and watch a druid take a call on a cellphone. The nearest pub was a safe half-mile away and, in keeping with the spirit of the day, no alcohol was on sale. Local traditional band Coscán went into action joined by an all-Japanese ceilidhe band normally to be found playing in a Kyoto bar called - wait for it - The Hill of Tara.
Tomorrow gets off to a 4.30 a.m. start, and events include all the above, with face-painting and a concert in the church later. Entry is free. Profits come from the sale of the programme which costs €5.
Since this ancient festival is dedicated to the elements, why not leave your car behind if you can? Buses leave Busaras every hour on the half-hour. Get off at Tara Cross and walk up to the village. Last bus back to Dublin is at 9.05 p.m.
For more details send an email to: www.tarasolsticefestival. ie