When I was growing up the best moments that I remember were had during the summer camping on the St. Lawrence River in the Thousand Islands.   It was always filled with joy as the entire family was around, we would have fishing tournaments, cook s'mores, gather round the campfire until all hours of the night, and hike the nature trails.   I remember days when getting onto a raft at one end of the Wellesley Island campgrounds and floating with the current for a mile took hours, and there was nothing I'd rather be doing.

Inevitably the current would take you to the castle ruins.  The ruins were on top of a 40 foot cliff on the top of an outcropping peninsula.  All the cool kids hung out at the ruins.  The cliffs were the gauntlet that proved you belonged with cool kids.  Don't even think of hanging if you weren't jumping.  

I never was the type to run to the top of the cliff and jump because everyone else was jumping.  I am far more analytical than that.  First take a good measure of the cliff -- 35 to 40 feet.  Next watch the way that everyone else jumps, 1, 2, 3 steps then push off (add flare here) hit the water feet first arms down.  OK, no one is coming up bloody, but that's not enough.   Go to the bottom of the cliff and do depth soundings all around the landing spot.  Looks like as long as you land out 12 feet from the base of the cliff you can't hit bottom.

Some kids just jump because everyone else jumps.  Some kids never jump -- they just don't have the stomach for it.   I analyze, validate, weigh the risks.   I ask questions and think about possible danger scenarios.   I may have missed minor opportunities by taking my time and making sure jumping was the proper course of action, but I've haven't yet jumped where I shouldn't have.  Eventually you have to take some risks,  eventually you hold your nose and JUMP !