Day one on Maunus Island for asymulm seekers The asylum seekers appeared to want us there but the Australian Immigration Department's hired muscle did not. "F--- off," shouted the burly private security guard, as two young asylum seekers less than four metres away almost climbed the fence and struck a series of poses after they saw our cameras as our tiny banana boat chugged past their prison. The sighting was the first of any asylum seekers inside the temporary centre on Manus Island since the Rudd government announced its hardline policy to send new boat arrivals to the remote Papua New Guinean island. Asylum seekers wave from behind the wire of the Manus Island detention centre. Photo: Kate Geraghty From the road that runs alongside the temporary centre located in the Lombrum Naval Base, about 30 minutes drive from the island's main town, little can be seen of the living conditions or inhabitants. Green hessian has been hung on the two-metre-high chain-link fence which runs parallel to the road, and the area where the single mens' quarters was previously located has been cleared, leaving two mouldy white marquee-style buildings in one corner. The front gate is partly obscured by shipping containers, and features a constant stream of contractors swarming over the site. Construction workers upgrading the Manus Island processing centre. Manus' local member Ron Knight says the extension of the camp had rushed ahead, with the facility expected to cater for up to 800 people by the end of the week. He said the extended quarters would either go across the road from the existing centre, or up the road in some old World War II quonset huts which had previously been used as accommodation for PNG forces. Just to drive into the naval base and down along the road past the centre, is to attract hostile attention. Near the centre's front gate a sunglassed Australian G4S security guard will immediately pop out and glower at any vehicle carrying suspected media. But from the ocean on the other side of the complex, it's a different story. The fence runs the length of the complex alongside a small area of beach, but there is no hessian, suggesting authorities have allowed inhabitants a view of the ocean. When Fairfax cruised past about 5pm on Thursday, what appeared to be a group of young male refugees could be seen sitting under a temporary steel carport-style structure that was set up near the middle of the complex. As soon as they sighted our boat they rushed to the wire - probably alerted by the aggressive posture of the security guards who stormed the fence. Fairfax was unable to hear what they were saying but they appeared in good spirits, with one even striking a muscle-man pose. One appeared so excited he almost climbed the fence . And while the security guards cursed, they smiled, waved and whistled. Just who the men were, or from which group they came from, was impossible to know. Prior to the arrival of the first group on Thursday morning, about 23 men had already been in the centre, left there to face local charges relating to an earlier disturbance. Elsewhere on the island the arrival of the first group of asylum seekers on Thursday morning went mostly unnoticed. The only obvious sign of change was at the airport, where dozens of Australians - including bureaucratic-looking types and tough-looking security types - piled off in numbers from the daily Air Niugini flight. As they collected their baggage, which included boxes of what appeared to be brand-new computer printers, one of the security types told a local they were expecting to be housed on board an Australian navy ship due to arrive in Manus on Thursday evening or Friday. The new arrivals joined a contingent of Australian Immigration Department officials already on the island, such as the two PR flacks flown in to massage the message, including one who is funded by Australian taxpayers to film and photograph the transfer for publicity purposes. How the islanders will react as the numbers of asylum seekers rise is hard to guess, but they are uncomfortable with the detention and hardline approach from the department-funded security. Our boatman, who won't be named in case he is bullied for taking media near the centre, was shocked at the foul language emanating from the security guard. But he took it well, and for the rest of our boat ride back all he and his crewmen could do was make faces, laugh and mimic the security guard cursing - such swearing, they told us, is highly unusual among Papua New Guineans.