FERRUM -- A little white lightning might have kept many a festivalgoer warm during chilly conditions at Saturday's Blue Ridge Folklife Festival on the Ferrum College campus.

But the only moonshine in sight was part of the "White Lightning, Blue Ridge Style" history exhibit where the history of making the illegal liquor was on display.

Instead, attendees warmed their bellies with Brunswick stew, fried chicken, fish and other regional fare -- no hot dogs or hamburgers are allowed -- during the daylong celebration of regional folkways, old-time crafts, customs, music and food.

Sponsored by the Blue Ridge Institute & Museum, the festival has been the victim of sketchy weather the past few years. This year's turnout was respectable, given Friday's downpour of rain and Saturday's wind that grew more fierce by the afternoon.

"For this type of weather, it's unbelievable," said institute director Roddy Moore, standing amid a muddy field with a horse-pulling contest going on in the background.

In all, thousands came to watch mule-jumping and horse-pulling competitions and a number of living history exhibits and demonstrations that included sheepherding, chair caning, embroidery, leather working and blacksmithing.

Tony Sigmon strained to hold the leash of his coon hound Big Money as they waited with dozens of other yelping dogs and their owners to compete in the treeing contest. The winner is the dog that barks the most times in 30 seconds while treeing a raccoon pelt.

"I've been coming here for 15 years," said Sigmon.

Not too far away, Roy Johnson of Gladys used his three border collies to demonstrate sheepherding to more than a hundred engrossed spectators.

"I like to come out and talk to people and show them what my dogs can do," Johnson said.

Over in a field near where apple, peach and pumpkin butter was being sold, Jake Cundiff fed wood into a 150-year-old specially made cast-iron oven while members of the Climax Volunteer Fire Department tended to the four-hour process of cooking sorghum cane into molasses.

"It's definitely a dying art," Cundiff said. "The man that originally taught us was 95 years old."

Moore said it's getting harder to find folks who know the old traditions and are healthy enough to participate in the festival.

"When they feel good, they come out. When they don't, they don't. But we still have a lot of good vendors here," he said.