BETHEL - The party that was never supposed to be finally ended yesterday, bringing to a close what some say may be the last true Woodstock festival.

Thousands of people still remained at Roy Howard's farm last night, despite the small ''no trespassing signs'' on his front lawn and a court injunction barring him from playing host to Woodstock pilgrims.

'You can't stop a miracle, no matter how many injunctions you put on it,'' said Jeryl Abramson, Howard's companion.

Howard's plan to hold a three-day concert was derailed when he was ordered by a state Supreme Court judge not to, due to a lack of permits.

Yesterday, it was unclear what lay in store for the couple in the wake of the weekend's festivities.

Abramson said she and Howard had spent Wednesday talking with State Police, only to return home and find about 800 people already camped out on their property.

''We called the police, but we couldn't remove them,'' she said. ''Basically, the only way we could comply was to leave.''

The couple left Friday and returned Saturday, finding thousands more at the property.

''It reached the point where we had to make a moral judgment,'' Abramson said, ''so we decided that freedom of speech was more important than some injunction I didn't even understand.''

So the faithful partied on, rolling in through yesterday afternoon in tumble-down vans draped with tie-dyed sheets and American flags. It was the latest in a series of spontaneous mass parties that began in 1989 with the 20th anniversary of the Woodstock festival. The number of people has ranged from as many as 20,000 to almost none in 1992, when the road to the original Woodstock site was blocked off by construction equipment and barriers.

''We really respect the fact that people want to be gathered,'' said a man named Yosef who played his fiddle, perched on the hood of a school bus painted with pictures of green fields and sheep. ''We want to deliver truth to people. We want to deliver reality.''

Just then, a bearded man in a tie-dyed T-shirt walked up and smiled.

''Last year, I was feeling kind of bad, and you offered me some food,'' the man told Yosef. ''I was wondering if I could return the favor.''

And so it went throughout the weekend, as people who made the annual pilgrimage renewed old friendships and revived the spirit of the 1960s as bands played on a stage in Max's old barn and another in mid-field.

And for all of the arguments over permits and injunctions that led to the event, few of the problems officials had anticipated actually materialized.

Community General Hospital in Harris and local emergency medical services reported only minor injuries at the site and at accidents involving people going to and from the farm.

People from local businesses donated portable toilets, and festivalgoers either brought their own food and water, or used the farm's own well.

Throughout the weekend, about 14 state troopers covered the area, stationing themselves mostly around the original site of the 1969 festival.

Police made several arrests Saturday for driving while intoxicated and drug-related charges, but reported no apparent problems at Roy Howard's farm, where anywhere from 1,500 to 12,000 people gathered.

''The people there haven't caused any problems that we're aware of,'' State Police Capt. Alan Martin said yesterday.

Some complained that police prohibited most people from parking near the site of the 1969 festival, arresting even County Attorney Ira Cohen for allegedly refusing to move his car from the intersection.

But Martin said their intent wasn't to discourage people from taking advantage of owner Alan Gerry's decision to allow people to visit the field during daylight hours.

''In the past, our experience has been that once you allow parking at the site, you lose control of the situation,'' the captain said.

What police did encourage people to do was to drop people off at the field, or park on Route 17B and walk the mile or so to the property.

Yesterday, 17B was lined with scores of cars, mostly round Roy Howard's farm, where they spilled onto the fields around the barn that Max Yasgur once owned.

Local businesses reported the usual boost in business that comes with each Woodstock anniversary, although most reported somewhat smaller crowds and fewer sales than last year.

''I'm glad for what Alan Gerry's doing, but the spirit of Woodstock isn't in rules and regulations,'' said 64 year-old James Murphy of Narrowsburg, who strolled among the bongo-beating revelers yesterday with his wife, Mae. ''Maybe this will be the last real Woodstock.''