With planet-high prices of gas this summer (Remember $3.54/gallon? Those carefree days!), vacation seems more like a curse than a holiday. Maybe the in-laws aren’t quite worth the gas anymore. Your roadtrip life is the Ghost of Summer Past. Or maybe you’ve been saving for Italy, the sights of the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo’s work all your life but because of gas hikes, you’ve put more money in driving to and from work than your savings account. Bummer!

    Whatever it is, those summer days have come and gone, but you haven’t. Luckily, the recent buzz is all about “stay-cations,” and you’ve taken the hint from retailers, saving gas money and buying everything to turn your house into a Swiss resort. But let’s say you still long to see those old buildings and Mike’s work on God and man.

    As far as I know, Michelangelo didn’t work Eau Claire into his tour, but I do think churches add a unique architectural aspect to a community. As plentiful as bars, they remain largely overlooked and unknown structures. But being built to honor a Creator, they’re constructed to reflect an idea of beauty and of the people who gather there. I’m not saying this will make up for the Sistine Chapel. I’m not even saying you’ll find this in Lonely Planet travel guides. But I do believe churches can have a similar artistic resonance that we feel when touring the cathedrals in someone else’s hometown.

    So here we go, ladies and gentlemen! My name is Abi and I’ll be your tour guide for the Great Churches of Eau Claire. Please make sure your V1 issue is securely fastened between your hands and keep cash tucked inside your fanny pack. In case of emergency, exits are located before and after this page and while picture-taking is encouraged, we do ask that you avoid feeding the locals.

GRACE LUTHERAN CHURCH 202 W. Grand Ave.
    Much like the changing of the guard, this church on Grand Avenue is best visited at a specific time, particularly 6:34pm. When settling in for dinner, the bells suddenly burst into an inspiring “How Great Thou Art,” or “He Was Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted,” and usually proceed to ring out all eighteen stanzas. The most endearing trait of this holy place is that they are generally out of tune.  

 FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH 310 Broadway St.
    At night, the church on Third Avenue has always appeared somewhat foreboding, more like a castle with its sturdy stone and heavy wooden doors. Walking down its length in the late hours, only a few street lamps cast an orange glow over the exterior, making the church feel like a long-abandoned building on an empty street. Perhaps that is why there’s such a temptation to heave open the doors and peer inside, listening for the footsteps of morose barons or a Miss Havisham.

TRINITY LUTHERAN CHURCH 1314 E Lexington Blvd.
    Now if you look to your right as you head east on Clairemont, you may notice a sudden shift into an era that architects fondly refer to as the “Swoop Movement.” Trinity – one of the few masterpieces showcasing the fad – is a building of curves shown by the rounded church entrance and the curved constructions that hug its side. Three bells round out the theme and with its giant half-pipe (technical term being “the swoop”), who doesn’t drive by without fantasizing a skateboard?

 ST. PATRICK CHURCH 316 Fulton St.
    With my highly trained expertise, I would categorize this as something between Chicago apartments and Parisian gothic. Its red brick mixes oddly with the many arches and impressive towers resembling the classic Notre Dame look. Nevertheless, every church should have a stained glass window of such size.

 VALLEYBROOK CHURCH 412 S Barstow St.
    Out for a stroll on Barstow, tourists may note the marquee advertising John 5:23 on Sunday mornings at this Church for the Latter Day Flicks. Past the empty box office and into the auditorium, the theater stage features an elaborate set and the plush red chairs could still hide popcorn kernels. Whether the anticipation of darkening lights is the same is up to you.

 CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL 510 S Farwell St.
    Consider the adjacent chapel on Lake Street. It’s sometimes locked, so the privilege to enter is always an unknown surprise. Here, thirty people would be a crowd. The ornate carvings on the altar and ceiling are pleasantly diffused by simple stone walls and stained glass. Only whispers seem plausible. 

    To name a few. If you’re not convinced, I agree. A five-hundred-year-old church can hardly be topped. But if you can’t travel across the world to take its picture with the Italian translator, echoes of the works of European worshippers can still be heard in the architect of its descendants here. Think of it as type of bar-hopping. Just in the mornings. And with a crucifix.