San José miners finally surface

• Alex Vega, 31, was the tenth miner to be rescued. Pic: Getty

For more than two months, senior foreman Luis Urzua has led his 32 men through a story of survival that has captivated the world. He may have entered the ground at San Jose a miner, but he will emerge, like the rest, a global celebrity.

Over the past 24 hours, presidents and the Pope have been among the tens of millions around the world to watch in hope and with bated breath as the most remarkable rescue story in modern times has unfolded.

Beginning at midnight and sometimes as quickly as once every 40 minutes, the men climbed into a slender cage nearly half a mile underground and made a smooth ascent into fresh air.

In a meticulously planned operation, they were monitored by video on the way up for any sign of panic. They had oxygen masks, dark glasses to protect their eyes from unfamiliar daylight and jumpers for the jarring climate change - subterranean swelter to the chillier air above.

They emerged looking healthier than many had expected and even clean-shaven; at least one, Mario Sepulveda, the second to taste freedom, bounded out and thrust a fist upward like a prizefighter.

News channels from North America to Europe and the Middle East carried live coverage. Pope Benedict said in Spanish that he "continues with hope to entrust to God's goodness" the fate of the men. Iran's state TV followed events live until president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad touched down in Lebanon on his first state visit there.

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The images beamed worldwide were extraordinary. Grainy footage from beneath the earth showed each miner climbing into the 13ft-tall capsule, then disappearing upwards through an opening. Then a camera showed the pod steadily rising through the dark, smooth-walled tunnel.

Like Lazarus, they have risen from a tomb of stone. The "miracle" rescue began in darkness when a medic made the sign of the cross, climbed onboard the red, white and blue "Phoenix" capsule and began a journey towards the centre of the earth.

On top, clustered around a hole no bigger than a postbox, rescuers sang the Chilean national anthem.

Half a mile down, in suffocating heat, the 33 miners who had not seen the sun or taken a single breath of fresh air for 69 days, sang a hymn: "You have a friend who loves you and his name is Jesus."

When the medic, Manuel Gonzalez Pavez, of the state copper company, emerged at the bottom, he was mobbed by the men, as a Virgil come to lead them out of the darkness. Then, shortly before midnight on Tuesday, the first man, Florencio Avalos, wrapped up against the night air in a sweatshirt and shielded with shades, began the long ascent in a metal carriage that could have proved to be his coffin, and the world held its breath.

In the makeshift tented town that has sprung up around the San Jose mine, they knelt and prayed. Around the world, tens of millions watched on television, while, at the surface entrance, Chilean president Sebastian Piera led a chant of: "Chi! Chi! Chi! Le! Le! Le!"

When, at 12:11am, Mr Avalos, the second-in-command of the men, emerged, the cheers echoed around the lunar landscape and out into the night, while in the capital of Santiago a cacophony of motorists' horns sounded. To greet him was his wife and seven-year-old son, who immediately burst into tears.

He was taken to a nearby field hospital, where other relatives were waiting and, after a brief examination, was airlifted to Copiapo Hospital, a routine each rescued man would follow.

After Mr Avalos went up, another paramedic, Roberto Rios of the Chilean navy's special forces, went down. The second miner to emerge an hour later was Mario Sepulvedo, who was so ecstatic his cheers could be heard even before the capsule reached the surface.

"I think I had extraordinary luck," he said. "I was with God and with the Devil. And I reached out for God."

He then ran towards a group of rescuers and led them in a song. Mr Sepulvedo also began handing out rocks as souvenirs and thrust a fist into the air.

After the accident on 5 August sealed the men under 700,000 tons of rock, they were stranded in darkness with just 48 hours of rations. It took 17 days before a borehole confirmed they were alive, a terrible period of which a number of miners have sworn never to speak. Yet the ordeal was momentarily forgotten amid their exuberant exit.

The first three men had been chosen on account of their fitness and technical knowledge in case the capsule got stuck. Then, after Carlos Mamani of Bolivia, the lone foreigner, was winched up, the next group of ten were among the frailest, who had endured health problems such as high blood pressure, diabetes and skin ulcers. After the fifth miner made his ascent, the rescuers paused to lubricate the spring-loaded wheels that gave the capsule a smooth ride.

The ninth, Mario Gomez, who at 63 is the oldest, dropped to his knees after he emerged, bowed his head in prayer and clutched the Chilean flag.

His wife, Lilianette Ramirez, pulled him up from the ground and embraced him.

He is the most experienced miner of the group, first entering a mineshaft to labour at age 12, and suffers from silicosis, a lung disease common to miners. Mr Ramirez has been on antibiotics and bronchial inflammation medicine, and had risen up wearing a special oxygen mask.

The miners' vital signs were closely monitored throughout the ride. They were given a high-calorie liquid diet donated by Nasa, designed to prevent nausea from any rotation of the capsule as it travelled through curves in the 28in-diameter escape hole. Engineers inserted steel piping at the top of the shaft, which is angled 11 degrees off vertical before plunging like a waterfall. Drillers had to curve the shaft to pass through virgin rock, narrowly avoiding collapsed areas and underground open spaces in the over-exploited mine, which had operated since 1885.

Protection for the men was extensive: a video camera watched each ascending miner for signs of panic; they had oxygen masks and two-way voice communication; and wore dark glasses to guard their eyes against the sudden exposure to light.

They took aspirin and wore compression socks to prevent blood clotting, and donned warm clothing for the change in climate - from about 90F underground to near-freezing on the surface after nightfall. Panic attacks during the ascent, said rescuers, were the biggest concern. The miners were not sedated - they needed to be alert in case something went awry.

When Mr Sepulveda spoke to viewers of Chile's state television channel, while sitting with his wife and children shortly after his rescue, he was aware of their global celebrity but said: "The only thing I'll ask of you is that you don't treat me as an artist or a journalist, but as a miner.

"I was born a miner and I'll die a miner."

The last miner out was slated to be shift foreman Luis Urzua, whose leadership was credited with helping the men endure the first two and a half weeks without outside contact. It was he who ensured that the men made 48 hours' worth of rations last, before rescuers reached them with a narrow borehole to send down more food.

At Camp Hope, the cluster of tents populated by the family and friends of the miners, faces which had so long been etched with worry were suddenly relaxed.

There, mothers and brothers and sisters speak of a miracle, but in hushed tones, as if afraid to celebrate too exuberantly in case they jinx the rescue of the men still to come up.

Elizabeth Segova has lost her voice through cheering. She says that by the time her brother Dario gets up - he was number 20 on the list - she will probably have to resort to sign language.

At the camp, 33 flags have been planted, one for each of the trapped men. Only once each man has returned to the surface safely will they be taken down. As Janette Marin, sister-in-law of miner Dario Segovia, said yesterday: "This won't be a success unless they all get out."