The official slogan of the Winnipeg Folk Festival is "People and Music," but my own personal slogan for this year's event came from Michael Franti and Spearhead, the San Francisco-based politico-reggae/funk outfit that closed down mainstage on Thursday night: "Wise men count their blessings; fools count their problems."

The phrase proved to be particularly relevant, as Folk Fest's 35th anniversary turned out to be one of the most intense I've ever experienced in the 17 consecutive years that I've been attending.

Things started innocently enough. The aforementioned Thursday night show - which also featured a stand-out performance by the Ivory Coast's Dobet Gnahoré, a woman with an amazingly powerful voice and the ability to kick her legs above her head in time to the music and do flips across the stage (yes, I'm jealous) - took place under a calm, clear sky that belied what was about to descend on Birds Hill Park.

The rain began on Friday, but rather than complain, I decided to cry along with God and listen to the blues. The impeccably dressed Little Freddie King, an old-school self-taught bluesman from New Orleans, did not disappoint, delighting a slightly soggy afternoon crowd by incorporating crazy dance moves into his guitar solos and explaining the story behind each of his songs in a thick Southern drawl that somehow made everything cooler. (My favourite was Bad Chicken, a song about feeding chickens.)

And then came Saturday, when Mother Nature dished out an unrelenting triple-whammy of freezing temperatures, gale force winds and rain.

Underscoring the hardiness and all-around awesomeness of Folk Fest diehards, over 1,000 day passes were still sold throughout the day, and extra gold stars go to the campers and the volunteers - particularly those on traffic duty - who, unable to escape the elements, made the best of a rough situation and remained in high spirits (or possibly just high - the campers, that is).

Wild outfits and pasties were virtually non-existent this time out; instead, this year's folk fest fashion statement was all about the rain gear. Approaches to staying warm and dry varied - amidst a sea of cheap emergency ponchos and bare, muddy feet, there were also the 'make-doers' who stuffed plastic bags into their shoes and wore garbage bags as jackets, the über-prepared who showed up in hip-waders and those yellow fisherman hats, and the 'screw it' camp who huddled in the beer tent, seeking comfort in alcohol and the companionship of others.

Wind forced organizers to move the mainstage show to the much-smaller Green Ash stage (the first time that's ever happened, according to Bob Crossman, a 34-year volunteer I met on Sunday) and by nightfall, the crowd had thinned out significantly.

That's when the magic started.

Filling in for reggae legend Lee "Scratch" Perry - who missed his flight out of Switzerland - was reggae artist Stamina, poached at the eleventh hour from Winnipeg's Soca Reggae Festival. The 300-plus crowd at the alternative stage didn't seem to mind the substitution, however, enthusiastically singing along to reggae classics while trippy visuals created by local video artist Mike Maryniuk were projected on the stage's overhang and funky smells wafted through the air.

Shortly after 10:30 p.m. after purchasing what was arguably the best latte I've ever consumed, I wandered back to the makeshift mainstage - and into the undisputable highlight of the entire festival. The crowd (1,500 people max; the smallest mainstage audience I've ever seen) was on its feet, going completely bananas to New York's Balkan Beat Box and its unique blend of klezmer, funk, hip hop and house music.

Of course, I immediately joined in, and together, silhouetted against the stage's white backdrop, we waved our fingers, bobbed our heads, jumped up and down, and howled our approval. Occasionally, a medium-sized dolphin replica danced across the sea of undulating bodies.

It was mesmerizing and surreal and energetic - a set so good, I forgot it was raining.

Wise men count their blessings; fools count their problems. True, this year's Folk Fest had more than its fair share of adversity. But then again, there were no bugs, no line-ups for the porta-potties or food vendors, and, like always, an array of amazing performances.

Oh - and those of us who survived it now have bragging rights and a great story to tell...