It was obvious from the get-go that Joan and Horst Kuehn of Hancock are folk festival veterans.

For starters, they arrived at 8 a.m. Sunday because they wanted to have front-row seats for The Green Fields of America, an Irish all-star ensemble. It didn’t seem to bother them that the group wasn’t scheduled to take the stage until 1:45 p.m. They brought their own chairs – who doesn’t, these days? – and they were ready to take whatever the American Folk Festival on the Bangor Waterfront threw at them.

On Sunday, that meant gospel harmonies, Irish reels, the melodic sounds of Inuit throat singing, French-Canadian contradance music, guitar tunes from a pair of master thumb-pickers and a few Cajun rhythms to boot.

“The world is filled with beautiful music and most people do not get to hear it,” Horst Kuehn said. “They are …”

“Just stagnant,” Joan Kuehn jumped in. “They listen to the same thing all the time.”

“The folk festival is demonstrating that there is beautiful music from all around the world and you really get to listen to these diverse performances,” Horst Kuehn added.

Diversity is what festival-goers have come to expect from the American Folk Festival, which on Sunday wrapped up its third successful year as an independent spinoff of The National Folk Festival. Early attendance estimates are on par with last year’s three-day total of 162,000, with larger-than-usual crowds on Saturday and slower-than-average traffic on Sunday.

There were “a few moments of panic” when the skies opened up Saturday night, drenching festival-goers, soaking the open stages and whipping around tent flaps. But even a downpour couldn’t stop Frank London’s Klezmer All-Stars, who kept playing after operation crews pulled the plug on the Railroad stage. Once the storm passed, crews squeegeed off the stage for Bernard Allison, who rocked the electric blues – despite the rain – well into the night.

“We got drenched,” said Kenny Loftus, who stood on the wet, mucky field with his friends Cindy Lewis and Troy Bemis, all of Milo, all in orange ponchos.

But was it worth it?

“Oh, yeah,” said Loftus, a musician who loves the blues.

The weather was alternately sweltering and rainy. And a delayed flight kept Finnish musician Wilho Saari from performing until Sunday, but the problems were minor and few. And the crowd – which lined up for kettle corn, boogied to Mardi Gras parade music and watched woodcarvers wield their chisels – didn’t seem to mind a bit.

Heather McCarthy, the festival’s executive director, attributes the festival’s lasting popularity to the investment of time, money and interest that community members have made – including sponsors, festival-goers and the 850 volunteers who make it all possible.

“This festival is owned by everyone who was here this weekend, even people who couldn’t make it – anyone who has contributed. It’s not just run in some office,” McCarthy said. “I think that’s setting the festival up for a very strong, long life.”

On Friday, a $169,000 budget deficit remained after a $20,000 donation from the state’s contingency fund for tourism. At press time, organizers expected to exceed their $75,000 fundraising goal from Bucket Brigade donations – one donor gave $300 in cash Saturday night and several dropped checks in the buckets for far more than the 38-cent average donation from years past. McCarthy expected to end this year’s festival in the black, though a $250,000 debt remains from the previous five festivals.

There has been some talk of charging an admission fee – to date, the festival has been free and open to the public – but that’s a worst-case scenario.

“Nobody wants to do that,” said Julia Olin, executive director of the National Council for the Traditional Arts, which produces this festival as well as The National. “It feels so good to be able to bring something like this to Maine and to have it be accessible to everybody.”

Tim and Beth Markie of Mattawamkeag said an admission fee might be prohibitive – especially given the high price of gas. They have made it an annual tradition to drive their camper to Bangor, park it at a local campground and spend the entire weekend at the folk festival. It’s a tradition they’d like to see continue – for free.

On Sunday morning, as the Markies sat in the shade of the Penobscot Stage tent, waiting for the Tibetan Monks from the Drepung Loseling Monastery to begin, they discussed how the festival has changed their worldview. They were pleasantly surprised by the Men in Black, a hip, young barbershop quartet. They raved about Saturday’s performance by Nadeem Dlaikan and Friends, who play traditional Arabic music.

“You see different cultures you wouldn’t normally see in Maine,” Tim Markie said.

“I think it’s made people appreciate other cultures more,” Beth Markie added. “Before this, we didn’t really understand what Cajun music was, or even the blues, but it’s broadened our perspective. Now we understand and we’ll take a chance on different types of music.”

The Markies aren’t alone. In the six years that have passed since The National rolled into town, people have increasingly sought out more diverse cultural offerings in the area. According to Bill Giggey, a Bucket Brigade volunteer who is involved in the local music scene, the festival has sparked a hunger for entertainment – not to mention a sense of pride in his native city.

“It’s just kind of an awe-inspiring thing to see,” Giggey said. “It’s Bangor, Maine. It’s our hometown.”

Olin has seen events such as the Lowell (Mass.) Folk Festival fuel related cultural activity. There, a summer concert series, which started a half-dozen years ago, has started to come into its own. And she wouldn’t be surprised if something similar happened here with community support.

“It’s clear that it’s been a catalyst for the redevelopment of the waterfront; it’s generated economic activity; it’s contributed a new cultural component to life in Bangor,” Olin said. “So as a next step, how can the festival then begin to spin off other activities, whether that’s a summer concert series or an ancillary celebration of local Maine artists? Things don’t have to fit into this festival. This festival will just foster other new things, and that’s what we’ve always hoped this festival will do.”

In the immediate future, a construction project is slated to fill the lot that now houses the Kenduskeag dance stage, so a site redesign is in the works. Preliminary plans call for the grounds to grow downriver.

“It gives us the opportunity to think about how big can the dance tent get, because it’s not big enough now,” McCarthy said. “With the numbers the festival is seeing, do we think about another stage?”

After six years, one thing is clear: The festival-goers know what they’re doing. They come early, bring lawn chairs, pack water and map out their schedules. They love to dance. They’re as wild about throat-singing and Tibetan monks as they are about reggae and blues. And they own this festival.

“This festival is the centerpiece of my whole summer,” said Ron Staples of Holden as he took a break from merengue dancing to wipe sweat off his brow. “It has been every year. I wouldn’t miss it. Everything gets put aside for this.”