A peachy pale moon rose over the Penobscot River in Bangor, illuminating the masts of the schooner Bowdoin, which had sailed up from Castine two days before for the 66th National Folk Festival. Near the food vendors, streetlights cast haloes through a mixture of haze and barbecue smoke, and the remnants of Saturday’s swelter hung in the evening air.

In the dance tent on the banks of the Kenduskeag Stream, the humidity hadn’t dissipated, and the closer you got to the stage, the steamier it got. You could blame it on the salsa, but no one was complaining – especially not Harry Rodriguez of Bucksport.

“One of the only reasons I come is for the dancing,” Rodriguez, a native of Puerto Rico who moved to Maine seven years ago, said as the African-Cuban combo Ricardo Lemvo and Makina Loca warmed up on stage. “I was here last night, dancing on the grass … and I’ll be back again tomorrow.”

Rodriguez wasn’t the only one thinking about tomorrow. On Sunday, the National ended its three-year stay in Bangor on a high note. Organizers said attendance topped last year’s 110,000, and unofficial estimates put the number around 130,000. The weather cooperated, if you could bear Saturday’s heat. And there were no major medical or police emergencies.

But more important, anticipation for next year’s American Folk Festival on the Bangor Waterfront, a local spinoff of the National, was tangible.

“Keep it going, don’t let it fizzle,” pleaded Alice Shaw of Hudson, who was listening to the Acadian band Vishten play from her son’s boat, which was moored at the Bangor landing.

Local organizers are in negotiations with the Washington, D.C.-based National Council for the Traditional Arts that produces the National and the Lowell Folk Festival, which began after the National left the Massachusetts city in 1986. And if they have their way, it won’t fizzle; it will sizzle.

“The American Folk Festival on the Bangor Waterfront will continue to feature the highest quality traditional artists, the diversity people have come to expect, and will continue to present it with the highest-quality tech support as well,” said Heather McCarthy, the festival’s executive director. “We want to keep the level as high as it has been set.”

It’s a tall order. Bangor, the smallest city ever to host the National, has become one of the biggest success stories in festival history. A recent study by Eastern Maine Development Corp. showed that the festival pumped an annual average of $3.7 million into the local economy, attendance has consistently exceeded expectations, and the waterfront has undergone a dramatic transformation with the help of local and state funds.

Organizers carried a $100,000 deficit into this year’s festival, but McCarthy is confident that they’ll be in the black for next year’s event. Increased foot traffic downtown has been a boon to restaurants such as the Whig & Courier and Thai Siam, but at The Grasshopper Shop, it was a wash. Though sales were down significantly, about half of last year’s weekend total, owner Rick Schweikert was upbeat about the festival.

“I don’t really think it’s the responsibility of the festival to put people on Main Street at all,” Schweikert said on Sunday. “They’re not coming here to shop. I think it’s such a great show along the river that they don’t need this.”

The community’s positive attitude hasn’t been lost on national organizers.

“It’s like the gods are smiling on Bangor, on this festival,” Julia Olin, associate director of the NCTA, said Sunday evening backstage at Solas’ closing performance. “I’m not sure I would’ve believed this could’ve happened here. There were some locals who were skeptical, too. We were hopeful, yeah. But to have it turn out this wonderfully -” She paused to say goodbye to Henry Butler. “It’s amazing, really amazing,” she said. “Everyone thinks so. Everyone you talk to. I find it interesting that all of the artists are commenting, saying, ‘This is the best festival we’ve ever been to. These are the best audiences we’ve played to. What’s happening here?'”

Well, a lot. Like a little girl walking on stilts, wearing a princess dress and holding her father’s hand in the children’s area while fiddle tunes streamed out of the music tent. Or a family stopping to chat with a wooden-boat maker who proudly described his craft. And four strangers coming together onstage to learn dabka, a traditional Arabic line dance. The audiences are grateful for the opportunity to experience cultures from around the world.

Normally, Shoshana Mahon, 11, listens to the Dixie Chicks, but she didn’t seem to mind the Campbell Brothers’ sacred steel on Saturday, as she and her family lay on the grass, tapping their feet and fanning their faces. If the weather were cooler, they’d be dancing, Shoshana’s dad, Hugh, said. The Mahons live in Livingston, N.J., but they own a camp in Liberty, and they’ve come to Bangor for the festival all three years.

“It’s interesting because it’s different,” Shoshana said.

And that, according to Nick Spitzer of National Public Radio’s “American Routes,” is the beauty of the National.

“It helps you appreciate where you’ve come from personally as well as gain an understanding of other people,” Spitzer said. “It’s reflective. It makes you see the differences and appreciate them, but it also makes you see what unifies us all – the humanity.”

Next year, the festival moves to Richmond, Va., a city far larger – with a population of 1 million people in the metropolitan area – and far more diverse than Bangor. The city has its own Greek festival, Armenian festival, an African-American festival, and a municipal office dedicated to producing events. But K. Alferio, executive director of city celebrations for Richmond, said her city could learn from Bangor.

“Bangor has set such an incredible bar,” she said. “I have never seen a community embrace the festival like this community has embraced the National Folk Festival. People in our hotel, people on the street, they say it’s the best thing that ever happened. They’re proud. That says a lot, to get a city energized.”

On Saturday, that energy was palpable as Ricardo Lemvo and Makina Loca prepared to play well into the evening at the Kenduskeag stage. The dance floor was packed with women in flowing skirts and sexy tops – salsa clothes – men in shorts and golf shirts, senior citizens and teenagers hopping around before the music even began. Then Lemvo stepped up to the microphone, and his voice carried out over the crowd, over the stream and through the night.

“Hello, Bangor, Maine! Are you ready for a party?” he asked.

The cheer that answered him was a resounding, “Yes.” Bangor was ready for a party – and it got one that shows no sign of ending.