by Georgia Mason-Cox
When I was growing up in Hobart, people used to talk about making Bass Strait a national highway. This gave me small shivers of excitement; surely ‘holidays’ on Bruny Island would become a thing of the past if we could easily drive to Sydney? A bridge to the mainland! It was ambitious, I allowed, visionary even. But why not? If the Tasman Bridge was a like prehistoric creature frozen on spindly legs, then the Bass Strait Bridge was a lost relic of Gondwana, biding its time on the sea floor. In my imagination it would slowly emerge, water streaming from its spine as it connected the little island to the big island and corrected Tasmania’s isolation.
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