Why this private island in New Zealand is perfect for family reunions

Inwardly, I scoffed. We'd been looking all over the South Island for holiday homes - or baches, as they're called down there - that could accommodate our group of 15 adults and 16 kids for a week in summer.

Everything was booked out. Even tiny studio apartments in the Marlborough Sounds were gone.

So, when the managers of New Zealand's Fiji said they had plenty of room, I was sceptical. What was this place? Why was nobody else staying there?

It turned out that D'Urville Island, a slightly worn-down and decidedly rustic destination, wasn't the white-sand paradise we'd dreamed of.

But it became the sanctuary we all needed.

Natural and pandemic disasters had conspired to make catch-ups with Mum's Kiwi side of the family rare and it had been more than a few drinks since all three generations of the Todhunter tribe had come together.

But this summer, the stars aligned. Every member of the clan was willing and able to celebrate Christmas together.

Since we'd last joined forces, life had thrown some cruel curveballs.

We were still reeling from the earthquake that had made the multi-generational family farm's homestead unliveable when news came of the tragic death of cousin Rosie's husband. Gavin - a passionate, caring farmer and devoted dad to their three little ones - died far too young in a farm accident.

Yet, even in the shadow of heartache, there were glimmers of light. Olive, the youngest of our crew, escaped the hospital - her second home due to a serious heart condition - just in time for the trip. At two years old, her cheeky smile and quirky personality lifted everyone's spirits.

Our group ranged from little Olive to those in their 70s, each carrying a mix of baggage, both literal - did we need all that beer? - and emotional.

Reaching D'Urville Island - or Rangitoto Ki Te Tonga - is an adventure in itself.

Accessible only by boat, the island sits off the northern tip of the South Island. The journey involves driving narrow, winding, partially unsealed roads up and down mountains, parking the car, and then boarding a small ferry to cross French Pass, which has the fastest tidal flows in New Zealand.

As you approach the island, its rugged beauty reveals itself: dramatic coastlines, native forest and an untamed charm that feels like stepping back in time.

"Characterful" accommodation - a collection of simple lodges, some with creaky floorboards and mismatched furniture - greeted us. But plenty of space for everyone, which was all that mattered.

We settled into a rhythm almost immediately.

Days started with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of birds mixing with kids' laughter as they raced around the island; afternoons were spent exploring, playing games or reading in the sun. Nights were reserved for feasts, storytelling and a lot of laughter.

Fishing was also a daily ritual. Armed with rods and bait, the cousins took to the waters, eager to prove who had the best angling skills. Fishing on D'Urville was a dream. Snapper, blue cod and even the occasional kingfish made for some impressive catches. Although it seemed impossible not to catch something, all the kids were delighted when they reeled in their own dinner, cooked for us later in the onsite kitchen.

With a couple of small boats at our disposal, we spent hours cruising around the island, discovering hidden coves, untouched beaches and funny, friendly dolphins.

The water, while not the turquoise blue of Fiji, was crystal clear and inviting. Max, the eldest at 15, was usually first in - shrieking at the chill but always going back for more.

The island lacked reliable Wi-FI but overflowed with opportunities for connection: screens were abandoned in favour of board games, cricket matches and late-night card sessions.

Our Kiwi cousins taught us how to water-ski, kayak and get lost in the bush.

Along the way, we found waterfalls, swing ropes and even an abandoned house to explore. We sprawled on deck chairs by the sea, reminiscing about old times, toasting our absent friends and family.

D'Urville wasn't just a backdrop for our holiday; it became a character in our story.

Its ruggedness mirrored the resilience of our family.

For the grandparents, D'Urville offered peace. They loved watching the sun dip below the horizon as the younger generations bustled around them.

For us cousins, it was a chance to reconnect, to laugh until our sides hurt and to remember what it felt like to be kids again.

And for the littlest ones, it was a place where they could roam free, explore nature, and be surrounded by love.

The oldies loved it so much they booked a couple of extra nights of grandparents-only time.

Meanwhile, the rest of us returned to our corners of the globe, vowing not to let so much time pass before the next reunion.

D'Urville Island may not be a polished paradise, but it's perfect in its imperfection.

Hopefully, it will still be there, exactly as it is, for our next adventure.

Because sometimes the best places are the ones that remind us of what really matters: family, laughter, and a little slice of solace in a chaotic world.