Camping along the Ring Road is a lousy way to meet Icelanders. Pretty much everyone, including those working at the campground, are from everywhere but Iceland. Not as many Americans here either. What you do have are a lot of cyclists, campervans (this is true everywhere in Iceland) and a few hitchhikers. People check in late at night and then crowd the inside communal area to cook feasts of processed sausages and noodles. We also now have night. Or at least something in-between twilight and dark. There are no stars out but town lights illuminate the sky. It is the first sign that summer is beginning to lose its grip.