Complex and crisp. The moulding on the fence is remarkably crisp, even as it returns across the front. Here you also can see (if you look closely) the boxwood lining and the two sliding dovetails that attach it.

Brass, iron and wood. The skate iron and depth stop all come together seamlessly. The tapered A2 irons all seat firmly against the skate and are held securely by the wedge. The set of eight well-made irons is just one of the selling points of this tool.

W

▼ ▼ hile modern carpenters might show off at the jobsite by driving up in a fully loaded pickup truck, the 19^lh-century cabinetmaker did the same thing when he pulled out his plow plane from his tool box.

Plow planes were usually the most expensive tool in an early woodworkers tool kit. While all the other tools in the woodworker s chest might be iron or beech, the plow plane could be made from an exotic wood, be highly decorated and use complex adjustment mechanisms. In fact, sometimes a particularly fancy plow plane would be presented to an employee as a retirement gift.

To me, its amazing that all this effort went into a tool that really did only one thing: cut grooves.

Ready to work. This bridle plow - based on the famous Matheison - was built by an 18-year-old student now studying tool and die making.

His third plane. Kyle Barrett (inset) holding the third plane he built.

Because plow planes were some of the fanciest tools made, they also are one of the most collectible today.

Unlike a number of tool collectors I know, I don t have a full-blown plow-plane obsession. Ebony screw-arm plows with ivory tips and silver fittings are beautiful and ingenious, but I've always thought that their flashy details somehow diminish them because they make them too nice to use - like a table saw with a solid gold top.

In my work, I've always used metal-bod-ied plow planes, though they eject shavings into your hands, are cold and seem heavier than their wooden cousins. The overriding advantage of the metal plows, however, is that their fences are easier to keep parallel to the tools skate than a typical wooden screw-arm plow plane.

As a result, what I've always wanted is a wooden-bodied plow that has a robust and easy-to-adjust fence. My search ended last year when I judged a toolmaking contest put

on by the WoodCentral.com web site and sponsored by Lee Valley Tools.

For that contest, we judged more than 60 tools that had been brought into Lee Valley's board room in Ottawa, Ontario. The moment 1 walked into that room my eyes locked onto a beech-bodied plow plane with ebony arms and a simple metal fence-locking mechanism.

When 1 finally got to pick the tool up, I was impressed by how lightweight it was and how the fence slid smoothly on its arms and locked with the quick twist of a thumbscrew. The real test, however, came when 1 started plowing grooves using a workbench that Lee Valley employees had moved to the boardroom.

The plow plane both glided over the work and removed a sizable shaving. It was the easiest groove I'd ever cut by hand in maple. This was a surprise. Usually with tools as complex as a plow or a moving fillister plane, there's a break-in period while the tool and its user circle each other and neither performs at the top of their game. This plow plane was different.

Meet the young (he's just 18) and skilled hands behind a near-perfect tool.

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