Meet the Canadian Freesurfer Quietly Killing It in Remote British Columbian Waves

I’ll be honest: The best surf photos I’ve seen from Canada are of Tofino’s finest, Pete Devries. He’s aggressive, punctual and somehow acrobatic in thick neoprene. But then images of a surfer I’ve never heard of landed in my inbox. Like the water he surfs in, Andy “Disco” Jones offered a refreshing take. Big boards, casual lines, style clear as a freshly washed window. When vigilant Canadian photographer Marcus Paladino offered to share more about this man who split his upbringing between Australia and Canada and rides long twins at heavy slabs around South Vancouver Island, we were all too keen to have a dig.

Interview by Marcus Paladino. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Marcus Paladino: If you weren’t a surfer, what do you think you’d be doing?

Andy Jones: I have no idea. Maybe a washed-up hockey player.

How did you first get the nickname "Disco"? And has it shaped how people see you in or out of the water?

When I hear "Disco Jones," it kind of makes me cringe. I think it’s this persona that’s more like my internet persona—it’s not fully authentic—but it’s done me some favours. I’d say it’s semi-authentic; it represents my social media personality, which isn’t fully me. I got it when I was walking along the road after a house party, and someone yelled at me out of a car. They just called me that—I didn’t even know who it was. They said, “Hey Disco!” And it stuck. 

So, it’s a bit of a negative connotation compared to who you really are?

Not really negative. I just don’t love it when people in real life call me Disco Jones, because I want people to know me as Andy. But the name has represented a good thing in surfing for me, so it’s not all negative—just a little piece I’ve always felt weird about.

When did surfing become more than just a hobby for you?

Surfing was everything to me when I was 15, living in Australia. My identity was 100% surfing — it consumed my whole life. Even if I had to go to the city with my family, I’d get anxious about missing waves. Looking back, it was probably unhealthy for a young person. Over the past five to 10 years, I’ve found a better balance. It’s still a big part of my life, but I can step back sometimes. Initially, I started pursuing it more seriously when I began shooting photos with friends in Australia. My first photo ended up in Pacific Longboarder Magazine, thanks to Fraser Sprat. Then, moving back to Canada, I started pursuing sponsors, with some help from friends like you, Rob, and Liam. That’s when it started to become something more, though it’s always been partly a hobby because I’ve had other work and passions to explore.

What part of your upbringing do you think shaped the surfer you are today?

Being raised partially in Canada shaped a lot of it. I started surfing later than most Australian kids, so I felt like I’d “missed the boat.” But being Canadian also gave me a different perspective. I wasn’t fully immersed in Australian surf culture, so I experimented with different boards—lots of long single-fins, then twin fins. Then, returning to Canada, that shaped my surfing style, too. It’s like my journey came full circle, and it influenced the type of surfer I am now, given where I live.

Is there a specific wave or stretch of coastline that’s been the most influential in your journey as a surfer?

The Sunshine Coast in Australia, where I learned to surf and found diversity in surf conditions—from mushy logs to hollow waves when the swell hit. But it was inconsistent, which is why I moved to southern Vancouver Island. I guess I like inconsistent waves.

What does surfing South Vancouver Island mean to you?

It helped me when I was living in Tofino and losing my mind a little. The wave quality and consistency are great, but I was chasing waves that matched the boards I like. South Island gave me quality over quantity. It also taught me more about balance, because the waves aren’t always there.

How important is community in your surfing life, and who are your biggest influences locally?

Community is important, but I think sometimes surfing communities could be more positive. There are great aspects I really appreciate, but it can hinder the experience when it’s not as progressive. Locally, I appreciate the unsung heroes — people riding gliders and choosing the right boards for conditions while having a good time. Broadly, my main influences were surfers I watched on the points in New South Wales and Pete (Devries) videos as a kid in Australia.

Do you have a moment in the ocean that changed the way you see surfing?

Back on the Sunshine Coast, I was struggling with thrusters and shortboards. Then I paddled out on a friend’s single fin on an overhead hollow beach break, and it clicked. I drew different lines down the wave and realized longboarding was my thing. Later, I transitioned into twin fins and found my style.

Have you ever had a moment on a surf trip where everything went wrong?

Yeah, but nothing horrible—just surface-level stuff, like missing waves. One trip, we drove eight and a half hours to hike into a wave on a whim. We were unprepared and ended up bushwhacking for two days. We deserved it. We didn’t even surf. We just drove home.

What’s something about your approach to surfing that most people misunderstand?

Maybe that I look kind of phony sometimes—like doing soul archers and throwing my hands in the air—but it actually just feels really good. If it feels good, do it. That’s my approach.

What keeps you pushing your limits instead of just staying comfortable?

I’m not really pushing limits in terms of heavy waves lately, but I do experiment with different board lengths and fin setups. It’s about exploring new feelings on waves, not necessarily bigger surf.

How do you balance your time between longboarding and performance surfing?

I don’t plan it too much. I go to the beach with all my boards and pick the one that makes sense for the conditions. Sometimes I’ll test a new board, but generally, I just adapt to what’s in front of me.

What’s something you’re passionate about that has nothing to do with surfing?

Mountain biking has a flow similar to surfing. I’m also pursuing a diploma in ecological restoration—trying to find a way to combine surfing and environmental responsibility.

How do you balance surfing with the rest of your life — work, relationships, etc.?

It’s tricky. The fickle conditions here can mess with your mental state — perfect forecasts can be flat, or big swells can hit when you’re working. But when it lines up, it’s perfect. You just learn to adapt.

What’s the best piece of advice someone ever gave you?

Alister Fernie (owner of Storm Surf Shop) told me there’s freedom in planning. Planning some things allows freedom in others. I try to follow that, even though I struggle with commitment.

Is there a lesson the ocean keeps teaching you over and over?

That there’s more to life than surfing, but surfing is fun. Swells come and go, and there’s always another day.

When do you feel the most like yourself?

When I’m exerting myself outdoors and having a good time, not worrying about superficial things.

If you could share a session with any surfer, past or present, who would it be and why?

Bob McTavish, back in the day, surfing Noosa with just two other people. It inspired me, though reality is different now.

Any final thoughts you want to share about surfing or life?

Surfing has been an anxious pursuit for me at times, especially trying to make it a career. Two or three years ago, I decided to surf for myself, stepping away from self-promotion. Now, I’m working with Finisterre, a brand that’s ecologically and ethically aware. It’s inspiring and helps me push my surfing into a direction that’s more positive and impactful — not just for me, but for the ecosystem, community, and the coast I love.