Finding the Chilean Miners with Peter Hapak

1 minute read

Trapped 2,300 ft. below the earth’s surface for almost three months, these 33 men defied the odds and inspired the world. Here we present them in the order in which they emerged from the mine.

To photograph all 33 miners, one crew traveled hundreds of miles over several days. Photographer Peter Hapak and TIME’s deputy photo editor Paul Moakley recall the adventurous photo shoot for TIME’s Person of the Year issue 2010.

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Take a look inside of the mine with photographs by Edison Pena

Florencio Avalos, 31, assistant foreman. Steady, but shy — Avalos took charge of filming the videos of his fellow miners because he didn't want to be on camera himself. He was the first miner sent up in the rescue capsule because officials determined he was "lo más hábil", "the most able," to handle any technical difficulties that might arise. "I just came back from China," says Avalos who was in Beijing doing interviews, "and I was amazed at how interested they are in us even that far away. That's given me a lot of strength to move beyond what happened to us." Peter Hapak for TIME
Mario Sepulveda, 40, electrical specialist. Nicknamed "The Presenter" for his emcee performances on the videos the miners sent up to the rescue team, Sepúlveda, led rowdy cheers with President Piñera and his ministers after stepping out of the rescue capsule. The flamboyant miner dressed up for the photo shoot as a huaso, a traditional Chilean cowboy, and told TIME he still wants to be a miner: "I didn't stop liking women after those 70 days," Sepúlveda reasoned, "so why should I stop liking mining?" Peter Hapak for TIME
Juan Illanes, 52, mechanical electrician. "The tragedy was nothing," says Illanes, "compared to the opportunities we have lying ahead." Peter Hapak for TIME
Carlos Mamani, 25, heavy machinery operator. "I don't ever want to go back inside a mine again," says the Bolivian citizen, who was only on his third day on the job. "I want to tell young people to take advantage of this life, to see how beautiful it is to be alive every minute that goes by. I learned many things down there." Peter Hapak for TIME
Jimmy Sánchez, 19, explosives assistant. The youngest miner, an avid soccer player, had dropped out of school and gone to work to support his family. Only weeks before the mine collapse, he had become the father of a baby girl. "I'm going to go back to finish high school," vows Sánchez. Peter Hapak for TIME
Osman Araya, 30, explosives specialist. Like most of the miners, Araya is having trouble sleeping at night: "I want to buy a truck now," says Araya, who won't be returning to mining, "and do my own thing." From left: Araya up close; on the right with other miners Peter Hapak for TIME
José Ojeda, 46, drilling chief. A widower with diabetes, he wrote the famous message 'Estamos bien en el refugio los 33'— 'All 33 of us are OK in the emergency shelter' brought up to the world when the miners were located. "I want to express a lot of love and thanks," says Ojeda, "to everyone for their prayers." Peter Hapak for TIME
Claudio Yañez, 34, drill operator. "I'd like to get on a TV program," said Yañez, who is planning his wedding, "and make a little extra money." Peter Hapak for TIME
Mario Gómez, 64, truck driver. Working in the Alavada mine despite having silicosis, a lung ailment common among miners, Gómez, the oldest on the shift, was a miner so he could help support his seven grandchildren. "Mine owners fill their pockets while they subject us to totally unsafe working conditions," says Gómez. "They should value human life more. What happened to us should never happen again, anywhere, and miners need to fight harder for that." Peter Hapak for TIME
Alex Vega, 31, mechanic. "On the way up in the Phoenix rescue capsule," says Vega, "all the experiences we lived inside the mine began running through my head, like a movie. Thanks for believing that we were there, that we were alive." Peter Hapak for TIME
Jorge Galleguillos, 56, mineral extractor. "I'd like to give thanks to God," says Galleguillos, "for this opportunity he's given us to overcome adversity." Peter Hapak for TIME
Edison Peña, 34, electrician. The long-distance runner, who passed time running through the mine's miles of tunnels listening to an iPod full of Elvis songs, became a star in the U.S. when he sang Suspicious Minds on the Late Show with David Letterman. "Thank you to the world," says Peña, who ran the New York City marathon in November, "for believing we were alive." Peter Hapak for TIME
Carlos Barrios, 27, mineral extractor. "I want to thank our country and the people of the world who believed. What I want to do now," says Barrios, who got word that his partner is pregnant while down in the mine, "is live and appreciate life as if it were the last day." Peter Hapak for TIME
Victor Zamora, 34, mechanic and mine fortification specialist. "I still can't sleep," says Zamora. "I have nightmares that I'm back inside the mine." Peter Hapak for TIME
Victor Segovia, 48, driller. An artist and writer, Segovia kept a journal on the backs of mine checklist forms expecting it would found by his body, if at all. "I wrote for myself as therapy," says Segovia who is working on a book about the experience, "to forget the problems." Peter Hapak for TIME
Daniel Herrera, 27, truck driver. Herrera had just returned from Paris— where he found the women "muy bonitas"—when we met with him. "You can't let your arms down against any difficulty," says Herrera. "You've got to have a will to live. We never let down our guards." Peter Hapak for TIME
Omar Reygadas, 56, electrician. A widower with six children, Reygadas had been trapped in mines twice before, but waxes philosophical about life. "Forget the material things and think instead about the spiritual," Reygadas advises. "There are countries in war, people fighting for insignificant things; we should fight for faith, for peace." Peter Hapak for TIME
Esteban Rojas, 45, maintenance chief. While underground, Rojas promised his wife, Jessica, whom he'd married in a civil ceremony 25 years ago, that they'd have a church wedding once he was out. "I was always waiting for some concrete reason to get married in a church," says Rojas, "so I made a promise to God that if I ever got out we'd do it." Peter Hapak for TIME
Pablo Rojas, 45, driller and explosives technician. Until the doctors OK his return to mining, Rojas is busy building an addition to his house. Working on the project, which he'd always put off, has been therapeutic. "It keeps me distracted from everything that's happened," says Rojas. "We're good and happy with our families, which is the most important thing." Peter Hapak for TIME
Darío Segovia, 48, drill operator. From a longtime mining family — even his mother, as a young woman, had been a mine explosives expert — Segovia has been working in mines since he was a young boy. "Thanks so much to everyone for their concern — and with all my heart," says Segovia, "I lament all the miners who didn't survive in the New Zealand and China and U.S. accidents this year." Peter Hapak for TIME
Yonni Barrios, 50, driller. Called "The Doctor" for his nursing knowledge, Barrios, wearing the shirt the miners wore as they got out of the mine with Psalm 95:4 on the back, tended to the miners underground and reported to health officials above. He became tabloid fodder when, after emerging from the capsule, his mistress greeted him, instead of his estranged wife. "There isn't anything in engineering that explains how the drill found us — we all took it as a miracle," says Barrios. Peter Hapak for TIME
Samuel Avalos, 43, tunnel fortification specialist. "I want to smile for you," explains Avalos, who suffered tooth decay in the mine, "but I haven't had my teeth fixed yet." Peter Hapak for TIME
Carlos Bugueño, 27, tunnel fortification specialist. "It's not necessary for something bad to happen," says Bugueño, "for the world to come together." Peter Hapak for TIME
José Henríquez, 54, drilling chief. "Believe in God," says Henríquez who served as the miners' spiritual guide. "He rescued us." Peter Hapak for TIME
Renán Avalos, 30, explosives specialist. Avalos, whose brother is assistant foreman Florencio, lives 12 hours away from the mine, and when working, is only able to visit his wife and son every other week. "I like mining," says Avalos. "I just don't want to go so deep underground again." Peter Hapak for TIME
Claudio Acuña, 35, driller. When Acuña visited Los Angeles last month with the other miners, he found a cure for the insomnia he had been suffering from. "At Universal Studios," says Acuña, "we ran around and laughed, like we were little kids again." Peter Hapak for TIME
Franklin Lobos, 53, driver. A former professional soccer player Lobos told us TIME's Person of the Year should be the Spanish soccer star David Villa. "He sent all of us jerseys," says Lobos, "but he sent a special one for me because we're both players." On a more serious note, Lobos wanted to deliver a message to businessmen: "Respect the poor people of this country and provide more security for workers. People should not risk their lives for money; they should fight for what they deserve." Peter Hapak for TIME
Richard Villarroel, 26, mechanic. "God exists," says Villarroel, who grew up in Patagonia. "Los 33 are proof." Peter Hapak for TIME
Juan Carlos Aguilar, 49, mechanic supervisor. "Thank God that we're here," says Aguilar. "He kept us united as a group despite all the adversity down in the mine." Peter Hapak for TIME
Pedro Cortez, 25, crane operator. "I have to take a pill to sleep each night," says Cortez, who lost a finger in a mining accident last year. "I want to say thanks for all the effort that was made to get us out. We're good now, we're alive." Peter Hapak for TIME
Raúl Bustos, 40, hydraulic mechanic. After surviving the February 2008 tsunami that ravaged his coastal town, Bustos headed to the desert to work in the mines. "I keep getting new opportunities to live," says Bustos. "It's a spiritual gift that keeps making me stronger each time." Peter Hapak for TIME
Ariel Ticona, 30, lift equipment operator and telecom specialist. "We were selected to be part of an immense miracle," says Ticona. "I'll be reflecting on that my whole life, and on what I'm now obligated to do because of it." Peter Hapak for TIME
Luis Urzúa, 54, foreman. The last to step out of the mine because he'd promised to "deliver the shift" to President Piñera, Urzúa had a reputation for being protective of and interested in the men who worked on his crew. His democratic but disciplined leadership is largely credited for keeping the miners alive during the awful 17 days before they were located. "There were days when we heard the search drills just above our heads disappear and go silent," says Urzúa, "and it was easy to imagine that was as far as they'd go and we'd never be found." Peter Hapak for TIME
Pablo Rojas and Alex Vega wearing the sunglasses the miners wore to protect their eyes from the light when they emerged from the mine Peter Hapak for TIME

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