In New England, we're blessed with water. Not the slow, fertilizer-choked rivers that roll through a Midwestern plain, or the muddy soup that meanders through sleepy Southern countryside.

Here, we have lakes fed from tasty underground springs, clear rivers that pass over beds of granite and quartz that shimmer in the water-filtered sunlight, and a mercurial ocean that's as much our birthright as Pilgrims and patriots.

Stretching over our waters are bridges — bridges that have lured generations of sun-weary New England teenagers to forsake the safety of terra firma and leap into the inviting waters below.

Here in Manchester, a fenced-off, abandoned railroad trestle over the Piscataquog River — nestled in the shadow of the Nazaire Biron Bridge — has long served that purpose.

But this summer very likely is the last year for city boys — and girls — who think a mid-day swim is best when preceded by a 20-foot, fear-filled free-fall. By next spring, the city wants to start replacing the fenced-off trestle with a bicycle/foot bridge.

Once completed, the new bridge will be almost like a jail cell. Dozens of 5-foot-high, iron posts, about 4 inches apart, will line each side, joined only at the top and bottom by horizontal beams.

The days of leaping off the bridge — at least easily leaping off the bridge — will be over.

“It's an unregulated swimming area,” said Peter Capano, director of city parks and recreation. “There's no lifeguards. It's hard to see what's under the water. It's just not a safe place.”

That's not welcome news to — let's just call them Bob and Tom — two 15-year-olds who visited the bridge last week. They wouldn't give their last names, fearful their mothers would find out what they were up to.

Memorial High School students, they bicycled to the West Side, ignored the “No Trespassing” sign and crawled under the chainlink fence.

“It was scary at first, looking down. I said, 'Screw it,' and jumped,” Bob said about his first jump, earlier this summer. “It just hurts if you hit wrong.”

“It's always scary for me,” said Tom, shortly before removing a “Fearless” T-shirt and taking several jumps. They were alone at the trestle this day, but at times a couple of dozen youngsters show up, they said.

Some are crazy, diving and doing back-flips, the boys said.

Earlier this summer, about 15 Hispanic kids joined 10 or so of their friends. They took turns in an orderly fashion. They yelped and supported each other.

“Everybody seems friendly when they come here,” Bob said. “It doesn't matter what color you are or anything.”

Bob and Tom are not the first generation to jump from bridges.

Originally from Maine, Capano said he grew up jumping from a steel trestle and the Frye's Leap cliffs into Sebago Lake.

Former West Side Aldermen Bill Cashin and Armand Forest used to jump from the Kelley Falls trestle.

“I hate to admit it, but yes I did,” Forest said.

Cashin did so in the 1940s and '50s, when trains still used the track. He summed it up best: He didn't want his parents to know. He went with his friends. Peer pressure is the only reason he jumped. It was scary. It was fun.

Cashin has mixed feeling about fencing off the trestle.

“Speaking as a kid growing up, no, it's not a good thing,” Cashin said. “Speaking as a grandfather, absolutely. It's dangerous, it really is.”

Mayor Ted Gatsas, who said he never jumped off the bridge because he can't swim, said he understands the safety reasons for the railings that will be installed.

The trestle can be dangerous. A quick review of past newspaper articles shows that a 33-year-old West Side man died in 2002 after jumping off the bridge. And in 1994, a 300-pound Massachusetts man hurt himself jumping off the granite abutment next to the bridge.

In 2008, a 30-year-old Manchester man died swimming in the river at the trestle; he did not appear to have jumped. To be sure, anywhere people venture into water, accidents happen.

Does the city really want to rob teenagers like Bob and Tom — or a young Bill Cashin or Armand Forest for that matter — of the opportunity to do something stupid that they'll fondly remember when they're grandparents, to sneak behind their mother's back, to take a risk and survive?

Manchester is safe enough already. Jump into the water headfirst from the side of a city pool and enough lifeguards will blow whistles that you'll think it's New Year's Eve at Times Square.

What about putting up a sign that says “jump at your own risk”? Capano said that's a question for the lawyers.

And as Forest pointed out, where bridges cross water, a teenager will find a way.

“Whatever they put there, some of these enterprising young fools are going to find ways to jump,” Forest said. “They're adding five feet to the danger of jumping off the bridge.”

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Mark Hayward may be reached at mhayward@unionleader.com.