Fourteen years ago, over a billion people tuned in to witness one of the most extraordinary rescues in modern history – the dramatic recovery of 33 miners trapped 2,300 feet underground in a Chilean copper-gold mine.
Known as ‘Los 33,’ the miners found themselves transformed into unlikely symbols of resilience and the triumph of the human spirit after spending 69 days buried alive in a collapsed San José Mine in the Atacama Desert.
Following their rescue, the 33 became global celebrities, and even the stars of a major Hollywood film starring Antonio Banderas. But as the years tick by, the men once defined by their unbreakable bonds have become mired in trauma, illness, jealousy and bitterness.
This is the story of the Copiapó miners- and what they did next.
The Collapse
The disaster unfolded on August 5, 2010, at the San José Mine in Copiapó, a notoriously dangerous operation. It was around lunchtime on the day shift when miners working deep inside a mountain started to feel vibrations. They steadily became more intense until all of a sudden, a massive explosion collapsed the passageways and filled the mine shift with enormous clouds of gritty stone dust.
Once the dust had settled, the miners discovered the source of the explosion: a giant block of stone as tall as a forty-five story building had broken off from the rest of the mountain and plummeted through the rest of the mine, obliterating the tunnels and causing the entire structure to collapse in on itself.
As they assessed the damage and the reality of their situation began to sink in, the miners began to panic. Shift leader Luis Urzúa said staring at the ‘megablock’ of stone, which at 770,000 tonnes weighed twice as much as the Empire State building, was like viewing ‘the stone they put over Jesus’ tomb’.
In the immediate aftermath, many feared the worst. For over two weeks, the miners had no contact with the outside world, surviving on minimal rations—two spoonfuls of tuna, half a cup of milk, a biscuit, and water shared every 48 hours.
But despite the immense psychological toll placed upon the miners as they faced near-certain death, the crew never gave up. Under Urzúa’s leadership the men organised themselves, maintaining discipline and structure in the dark, claustrophobic environment and erecting a makeshift tent city called Campo Esperanza, aka ‘Camp Hope’.
On the first day of their entombment, Urzua took off his distinctive white helmet and told the miners: ‘We are all equal now…There are no bosses and employees.’
‘One of the things that helped us the most was humour. Even in the worst moments, we laughed,’ recalls fellow miner Mario Sepulveda.
‘We had a great time down there. We sang, we daydreamed, we made democratic decisions and no one went overboard.’
Meanwhile, little did the miners know that above ground, a massive rescue operation had already begun, and their story was quickly becoming a national—and international—obsession.
It took 17 days for the rescue team to even confirm the miners were still alive, but when a narrow drillbit bored a hole into the cavern the miners were taking refuge in, it resurfaced with a note attached in red ink: ‘Estamos bien en el refugio, los 33’ (‘We are well in the shelter, the 33’). The message ignited celebrations in Chile and around the world. It was a miraculous confirmation that all 33 miners were alive.
From this moment on, the Chilean government, led by President Sebastián Piñera, committed every available resource to bringing the men back to the surface. NASA, international mining experts, and engineers joined forces with Chile’s own mining and rescue teams to devise a plan to extract the miners.
The operation was not without risks. Concerns about further cave-ins, as well as the miners’ mental and physical health after their long ordeal, kept rescue teams on edge.
But 69 days after the initial collapse, the final phase of the rescue had begun. Nobody had ever been trapped for this amount of time and lived to tell the tale, and the world watched in real-time as the first miner, Florencio Ávalos, emerged from the capsule just after midnight on October 13.
One by one, the miners ascended through the narrow shaft, greeted by tearful family members, cheering crowds, and President Piñera, who was present for every arrival.
Some of the miners were incredibly animated as they emerged, others quieter. But all of them were visibly grateful to be above ground.
Mario Sepulveda’s jubilant shouts were heard even before the rescue capsule surfaced. After hugging his wife, he punched the air like a prizefighter and handed ‘souvenir’ rocks to bystanders.
Doctors present at the scene found very few problems with the miners, and shockingly concluded that some of them were in even better physical condition than they had been before. So strict was the miner’s discipline that they even had two leftover cans of tuna.
The entire rescue lasted 22 hours. The final miner, Luis Urzúa, the shift leader who had been instrumental in keeping the men calm and organized, emerged from the Fénix capsule at 9:55 p.m. on October 13. His safe return marked the successful conclusion of one of the most daring rescue operations in history.
Millions around the world were glued to their screens during those tense hours, sharing in the joy and relief of seeing the miners—many of whom had become international icons—returned to the arms of their loved ones.
For the 33 miners, life after the rescue has been a mix of triumph and struggle. While some have taken on public roles, participating in documentaries, interviews, and lectures, others have faced psychological challenges and financial difficulties.
Before leaving the Refuge, all 33 men recognized that ‘their story [was] their most precious possession’ and agreed to share the proceeds of any book or movie made about them.
Following their rescue, the men became bonafide national heroes, and saw themselves gifted free travel and $10,000 each by an eccentric Chilean businessman for their struggle. World leaders congratulated them, a book about their ordeals became a bestseller, and a film about their plight starring Antonio Banderas became the second biggest opening ever for a Chilean film and topped the box office there for six consecutive weeks.
But the good times didn’t last, and as the men drifted further from the incident, the unity between them started to dissolve.
Jimmy Sanchez, who at just 19 was the youngest of the miners, blamed lawyers who drew up a contract to the film and book rights which ended up dividing the group.
He also blasted some of the more charismatic members of the group, such as Sepulveda, who were able to leverage their infamy to become reality stars and motivational speakers, making more money than other members of the group.
Many of us worried about money and they forgot everything we went through,’ Sanchez said, also blasting the lawyers who ‘earned a lot of money from us, and we got nothing.’
‘The families provoked all these divisions between us. There was a before, a during and an after. After we came out, it became every man for himself,’ said Sepulveda, who became a well-known figure in Chile and used some of his money from public appearances to build a school for children with autism.
The men remained bitter about not getting more compensation after a court case lodged by the miners against the remains unsolved after a gruelling decade-long legal battle, and many of the miners have complained about receiving inadequate mental health care.
‘They released us quickly — we were only in therapy for a year,’ Sepulveda explained, while Jose Ojeda, who wrote the initial message to the rescuers, says he still has ‘nightmares and trouble sleeping’.
As more time goes by, the bonds between the Atacama miners have weakened and many of them don’t meet up together anymore, most having returned to a life of anonymity following their moment in the spotlight. But while some resent their return to normalcy, others yearn for the simpler days.
‘I dream of starting a shift, at the gate to the mine, with my colleagues and the shift manager. I dream of this,’ he says.
‘I want to go back and give my experience. I love mining and the work of a miner.’
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