My colleague Simon Romero reports from the camp near the mine that a clown named Rolly is among those waiting for the miners to reach the surface:

In the unlikely village that has coalesced here in recent weeks, a television crew murmured to one another in Mandarin. A Roman Catholic priest lamented how money corrupts the human spirit. A clown named Rolly pondered the meaning of sacrifice in the Atacama desert, arguably one of the driest places on Earth.

“You could call me a psychologist of sorts,” said the clown, whose real name is Rolando Gonzales. “This has been my home for the last 32 days,” said Mr. González, 43, a former miner himself who came here, he said, to counsel family members and provide a bit of entertainment for the children of the miners.

“I’ve glimpsed into the human spirit with this experience,” he said. “You would by how people need a clown at their side when they are grasping for solutions.”

The handful of spiritual pilgrims like Mr. González who made their way to San José Mine reminded the others here that meaning lied beneath the spectacle that emerged around Camp Hope in recent days, involving more than 1,000 journalists from around the world, helicopters flying overhead and policeman patrolling the scene on horseback.

“I cried today,” said Alcides Peralta, 39, an ultramarathon runner from Uruguay who arrived at the camp’s entrance carrying the flags of his small South American nation and of Chile. “I arrived to stand in solidarity with my Chilean brothers,” he explained, while nibbling on a bologna sandwich.

Chile’s stern carabineros, or policemen, halted that plan, ejecting Mr. Peralta on Tuesday from the camp due to his lack of media credentials. “This saddened me greatly,” said Mr. Peralta, his eyes hidden by dark wraparound sunglasses. “But I’m fine, even if it means I have to run all the way back to Copiapó tonight,” he said, referring to a town 30 miles from here.

The crush of journalists from around the world instilled some dismay in others here, including Daniel Pauvif, a Roman Catholic priest nearby in the Atacama, who has been coming here on and off for the last two months. He said many of the news organizations were glossing over the real story in favor of simpler tales.

“These miners are being called heroes but they are, in reality, victims of a great injustice in work conditions,” said Father Pauvif, squinting under the Atacama’s relentless sun.

He went on, focusing on the more ignoble stories he had heard about family members who had cut secret deals with media outlets abroad which are interested in exclusive rights to their travails. Rumors spread throughout the camp on Tuesday that some families would be whisked off to the United States, Spain, even Greece, for television appearances.

“This has become a spectacle that is revealing human weakness,” said Father Pauvif. “It is making them open to asking for money for interviews. Some have ceded to temptation.”