Soundsplash at the Eco reggae festival, Wainui Reserve, Raglan

Talk about fire poi heaven. The vibes at the Soundsplash 2005 Eco Reggae Festival were good, bro. But this ain't no hippy festival. It was more a celebration of the best roots-rock-reggae that Aotearoa has to offer - and a weekend of bone-shuddering bass.

The bi-annual festival sold to capacity - around 4000 - and that number was ideal. Organisers could have crammed more bodies into Wainui Reserve, but they didn't.

The reserve is at the entrance to one of the most spectacular beaches on the North Island's west coast with Raglan's surf break in the distance. The main stage is a natural ampitheatre and a mix of teepees, canvas shades and tents were sprinkled around the grassy bowl.

The crowd in front of the stage was sucked in and out like the tide as the bands came and went. Predictably, the biggest, happiest, and most loved-up crowd was reserved for TrinityRoots at 8pm. The Raglan gig was meant to be their last but hometown Wellington will have that honour in a couple of weeks when they play a tsunami benefit concert.

TrinityRoots played another blinder. They are a trippy experience. As the music ebbed and crescendoed, with the lights rising up and down, the crowd teetered constantly. Bass player Rio Hemopo was a brick and his staunch playing held some deeply psychedelic music together. You also forget about the harmonies these guys can pull off.

It may have been TrinityRoots' night but this year's festival had the best lineup of local reggae-roots acts that New Zealand could muster, including everyone from reggae sound systems such as Roots Foundation to emerging reggae bands the mighty Kora and old-timers Unity Pacific. The international act, Blood and Fire Sound System featuring Ranking Joe, rounded off the night on the mainstage at midnight-ish but were a little one-dimensional and mellow.

Outside the festival, people had parked up in the reserve and were warned that at 8pm they would be towed. It never happened. One guerrilla sound system - the Jafa Mafia, run by a crazy and passionate Hungarian chap - set themselves up outside and played some of the best dancehall of the weekend. They were still going strong on Sunday morning.

The only ridiculous thing involved food. Waiting in a line for 30 minutes to order and then waiting another half an hour to see the lads behind the counter painstakingly prepare your chicken pesto burger eats into listening time.

Fat Freddy's Drop made a muggy night even more sweaty. They were slugging tequila shots on stage and their nips of brass - be it trombone, trumpet or Warren Maxwell's saxophone - were uplifting. It was a celebration and that's the kind of vibe a reggae festival inspires. As frontman Dallas said: "To Bri [the organiser], to the sun, to all you fullas, respect, safe journeys."

But no one was going anywhere. Except to your tent for the most blissful sleep you were ever likely to have.