Storm Chasing: 2022 Porsche Cayman GT4 takes on some of Queensland’s best roads

The air is thick with promise. It’s 4.00am on what should be a beautiful summer’s day in Queensland’s south-east corner. You’ve seen the images on countless tourism ads – blue skies, white beaches, and genetically blessed models with infuriatingly upbeat demeanours beckoning you to join them. There will be none of that today. What we will be experiencing instead is a selection of the very best roads this region has to offer.

I’m standing at Narrowneck on the Gold Coast as a starting point. The name of the beach may be foreign to you, but you’ll have seen this piece of bitumen before. Each year (once in a century global pandemic notwithstanding) it is transformed into the back chicane of the Surfers Paradise street circuit. A right, left, right, left complex that Supercars drivers enter at 240km/h before launching – often literally – over the kerbs and tyre bundles. My track-ready steed for the day, the Porsche 718 Cayman GT4, won’t be performing any such heroics, even if the gutters here are still lined with tell-tale red and white kerbing.

The only onlookers at this hour are a few overly enthusiastic joggers. It’s still ‘oh god why am I awake o’clock’ on a Tuesday, and I come up stumps trying to reconcile why someone would do that to themselves. But my biggest concern is the storm front. That cursed storm front. Remember how I said this should be a beautiful summer’s day? It won’t be.

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The dreadful weather that threatens us from afar is a hangover from Tropical Cyclone Seth, with the residual low-pressure system lurking off the coast. Looking east, the swirling grey that is today’s frighteningly large swell meets an imposing black at the horizon. There are people that actively chase storm fronts like Seth. Not us. We are running, and our feet won’t touch the ground all day as he nips at our heels.

There will be no epic sunrise, so it’s time to get moving. I’ve teed up nearly 400km of driving that will challenge the GT4 and I (along with photographer Dewar, who I duped into joining me on the promise of beautiful vistas and warm weather). The route snakes west from the coast, away from the tourist traps and onto the Scenic Rim before cutting north to Brisbane’s twin mountains and taking in a unique ridge ride toward our terminus on the Sunshine Coast.

A salty sea breeze flows past the LED matrix headlights of the Cayman in the dark, selling whispers of what will haunt us for the rest of the day. I turn the key in the ignition of the Cayman and the 4.0-litre naturally aspirated flat six fires to life. An actual key, in a proper ignition. It’s amazing what constitutes analogue these days.

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The senescent personality of the GT4 doesn’t start and end with the twist of a key. The inhalation of air into each of the combustion chambers is performed at atmospheric pressure, forced induction need not apply. And electric motors? You’ll need to wait for the next-gen Cayman if you want that. Adjustable drive modes can be found by flexing your ankle, not at the press of a button.

The GT4 doesn’t hide its nature. Even in the mundane it telegraphs intention laced with purpose. The sound of small stones picked up by the vast Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tyres ping in the wheel arches, the gearbox whines along with the mechanical locking diff. Buying a Cayman GT4 and confining it to urban roads is akin to keeping a Great White in your lap pool.

For today’s journey we’ve got the PDK-equipped version of the GT4, which goes some way to ailing the manual’s long-ratio ills. The issue isn’t entirely resolved with the self-shifting seven-speed unit, but the move to two pedals allows the car to make better use of the powerband. The PDK will swiftly shift to a lower ratio before corner exit for better punch, where the driver of a manual may well hang onto the higher gear.

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Thankfully the turn to Beechmont arrives quickly, the sun beginning to break up the cloud cover and beat down upon our back, the mercury rising further in kind. The Cayman and I seem to let out a sigh of relief in unison. Thumbing the PDK Sport button on the centre console, the car feels like it’s instinctively flexing its muscles, priming an attack. No sooner is my hand back on the suede-trimmed wheel has the dual-clutch gearbox dropped a ratio, flaring the revs.

We climb quickly after the turn, with the road flicking into aggressively cambered hairpins, flashes of blue appearing briefly through the White Beech trees that give this area its name. I foolishly mistake what is Hinze’s dam azure lake for the sky. When we reach the ridgeline Seth’s dark clouds have descended further and are a swirling maelstrom of black-and-white tendrils reaching down upon the road.

While the roads so far have been enjoyable, the real meat of the day is to be found north of here near Brisbane. It’s an unglamorous transition, with plenty of 100km/h country-road schlepping. Highway driving isn’t the GT4’s comfort zone – it knows that and so do I – so I try and bring the transit stage to an end as swiftly as possible. Seth taunts me by seemingly disappearing. Rain now you bastard, get it over with!

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It’s still dry when we reach the bottom of Mt Nebo, one half of Brisbane’s two-mountain act. Brisbane locals will be well acquainted with the driving joys both offer, as am I having spent many late nights traversing their serpentine roads. It’s also a favourite of motorcycle riders who frequently use the Glorious Café as a meeting point midway between the two Mounts. Towering gums replace Armco at the road’s edge. Speed signs are bolted to their trunks. Not content with government warnings, locals have made their own signage, reiterating the speed limits, showcasing the battle between those who live here and those who enjoy its bitumen delights.

An abandoned fire tower sits near the top of Nebo. It isn’t visible from the road, and you’d miss where to stop unless you were told by a local. Luckily, I once was. If you ignore certain signs you can get to the top of the wooden structure where you’re greeted with a vista that stretches from Noosa to the New South Wales border on a clear day. At night you can watch the headlights of other drivers as they bob and weave up the hill and past you.

These roads are familiar to me, but the driving experience is completely foreign to those formative late nights. My 18-year-old self would find what I’m doing today completely improbable, largely due to the cost of entry. A standard Cayman GT4 with a three-pedal manual will set you back $210,100 before on-roads. The privilege of not having to shift the gears yourself will add $4580 to that alone.

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Our test car also includes choice options such as Python Green paint ($6070), 18-way electric adaptive sport seats ($4630) extensive interior trimmings in Porsche’s pseudo-suede Race-Tex material ($3320), a Bose surround sound system that can only manage a feeble fight against the GT4’s considerable road and wind noise ($2230), and more. All up, our tester asks $239,650 from a prospective owner.

Add on-roads to that and, well, the barrier of entry is elevated by cost more than the skills required to give the GT4 a proper thrap. Skilled you do need to be. Not that the fastest Cayman available (until the bonkers RS version lands) will bite the hand that steers, but its depth of talent is so deep you can become overwhelmed by it.

Seth is all-encompassing and inescapable. Just as we begin to think that we’ve escaped its rain-soaked grasp we are plunged back into the torrents once again. The road that snakes its way along the banks of Somerset Dam has seen better days. The corrugations and ripples that have been beaten into the hotmix by countless trucks and boat-hauling dual cabs has turned the surface into one that truly tests a car’s damper tuning and mid-corner compression compliance.

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It’s here that I become thankful for the intelligence harboured at Weissach. Taut body control is paired with damping that doesn’t rattle your brains out, and can soak up the punishing bumps, instead of skipping over them and denting confidence, particularly in the mid-corner. Traditionally though those that didn’t wish to punish their suspension here could enjoy vast views of the expansive lake and the revellers that make the most of it on the water. Today Seth’s veil means we can barely register what cardinal direction the dam is in relation to the road.

The road is doing its best to retain heat – the temperature is still in the mid-to-high twenties – with steam continuing to rise off the surface. The Michelin tyres too cling to warmth admirably. This means it’s not grip limiting progress, but visibility. I wish some of the engine’s power could make the wipers work harder.

As our day ticks on (we clock 17 hours in the saddle all up), my confidence in the GT4 increases. By the time I reach the fast sweepers that form the bottom of Maleny Stanley River Road (a gem of the Sunshine Coast hinterland we’ll explore more next issue) I realise I’m pushing harder and faster than is sensible. The GT4 has the capacity for more speed should I wish to push on, but like trying to rev a modern car in neutral, there is a mental soft limiter of self-preservation that says enough is enough.

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The limit is out there, but I won’t be finding it today, not without a rendezvous with a proper race track. Does that dull the appeal of the GT4 as a road car somewhat? No. Porsche has been doing this long enough that it can chew gum and walk at the same time. Needing a track to get to the cliff face of mechanical talent and building a capable road car are not mutually exclusive demands. Even without pressing the limits of its mechanical ability, the GT4 is as thrilling and engaging a chariot as you could hope.

The steering is electric in the way it feels in your hands. It’s delicate but alive with sensation. There are no dead zones, it’s progressive and responsive. Every small input is executed clinically. If hell was a Westfield car park, as long as I had a Cayman GT4 to tootle around, I’d happily enjoy the millennia of ‘torture’ I deserve for my sins. Then there are the brakes. Oh, glory be these brakes. Both in outright stopping power and pedal feel the standard steel units are exemplary.

While both the engine in the 911 GT3 and Cayman GT4 are 4.0-litre naturally aspirated flat-sixes, the unit found in Porsche’s mid-engine offering starts life as the 3.0-litre twin-turbo 9A2 Evo from 992 911 Carreras and co. Porsche’s engineers then increase the bore by 11mm, stroke by 5.1mm, delete the turbos, lift the compression to 13.0:1, redesign the crankcase, crank, pistons, conrods, cylinder heads and intake to build an almost standalone unit.

The result is impressive, but perhaps not entirely exotic in feel. Yes, it’ll rev to 8000rpm, and has all the power you need to have the traction control light come with an epilepsy warning, but it lacks character that is truly endearing. With combustion technology reaching its zenith, an old school atmo flat-six should thrill. It’s a shame this one doesn’t.

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Of all our hinterland travels today, there is something that I’ve been thinking about since our departure in Narrowneck – Obi Obi Road. We hit the anticipated tarmac outside Kenilworth just as the sun sets, plunging the surrounding hills into darkness. I’m tense and excited because I know the unique feature hidden in this rural b-road. As you climb the Obi Obi, for one small and tiny stretch, the two directions of travel are split from one another and those travelling east are gifted a lane and a half of twisting bitumen, with the guarantee of no oncoming traffic.

There is no looping back down to do it again, with the return route a dirt path entirely unsuitable for the GT4. It’s a one-and-done situation. But for those 1500 metres the Cayman and I are free. Together we dive from apex to apex with impunity, knowing that we have the entire width of the road to ourselves. The Porsche’s individual parts coalescing into something greater than their sum. Harrowing swirls of rain that have chased me since dawn are left in the wayside as the delight of mechanical unity clears my mind.

From here it is just a short drive down the hill to the Sunshine Coast. Somehow the Cayman, now flecked with bugs and grime from a hard day’s work, is still managing to turn heads on the foreshore of Mooloolaba beach. While the GT3 will always reign supreme, the GT4 acts as Porsche’s prince of speed. While it may not have been enough to escape Seth’s grasp today, I don’t know many other cars that would have made the trip as enjoyably memorable. That, if nothing else, makes the Cayman GT4 performance royalty in my books.

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Fully SEQ

The Route – 398km

Our start and end points are dictated by editorial photography needs and storytelling, something your personal exploration will be unshackled from. An alternative to Beechmont Road is Nerang Murwillumbah Road that rides the hillside next to Hinze Dam. Mt Tamborine is a favourite for locals, but was closed during our drive.

Entering Mt Glorious from Samford is an excellent choice, and a detour to the nearby Mt Mee and nearby Clear Mountain Road will be well worth your time – just remember to take your brave pills with breakfast. Looking for food stops? Ricks Garage oozes old school diner cool with excellent service, while sitting down at McCoy’s Café could see you served a drink by Aussie motorcycling royalty, Gary McCoy.

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PORSCHE CAYMAN GT4

Things we like: Best steering in its class; more grip than god; damping

Not so much: Engine is good, not great; road noise; gears are still too long

SCORE: 4/5

2022 Porsche Cayman GT4 specifications