If any car deserves a great road to play on, it’s the Cayman

Whether we want to admit it or not, I suspect we’re all a bit obsessed with the letters ‘A’ and ‘B’. We choose our cars on the basis of minimising the time taken to travel between them. Which is good. It means we look at the road and what’s coming the other way rather than loitering in the ‘larger picture’ and drawing little circles on a map to denote a comfort break or the location of a car park with a view that can only be appreciated through wistfully narrowed eyes with a long exhalation of breath.

Some people make a point of stopping at places we perceive only as a grey-green blur. To us, those people register as a pinkish streak. And that tells us something. The greater the degree of colour bleed, the heavier the right foot, the deeper the commitment to a righteous cause. Trouble is, some of the world’s best roads for indulging that addictive hell-for-leather, A-to-B habit are also the most lingeringly beautiful. But this is where the wonder of perspective kicks in. Localised blurring is all the more satisfying when it melts out into the seemingly static grandeur of a truly vast vista. Small road, big country, fast car – that’s the million-dollar combination.

So when we heard that Porsche had decided to base its latest car launch at Chiclana de la Frontera in southern Spain, just an hour and a half’s drive from one of Europe’s most rewarding and best-looking roads (the rather tediously named – but anything but – CA9104 that snakes, soars and swoops between the villages of Grazalema and Zahara), we felt it would be a dereliction of duty not to let this modestly awesome stretch of blacktop illuminate the adrenalin-generating potential of the newly updated Cayman S.

If any car deserves a great road to play on, it’s the Cayman. Dismissed by some as an aesthetically challenged Boxster with a tin top and by others as being chronically testosterone-lite, the Cayman is the purest and, in many respects, best car Porsche makes. In fact, such are the innate advantages conferred by its mid-engined chassis layout, it’s pretty obvious that Porsche has resisted – a little too cynically some say – exploiting its true potential for fear of upstaging the iconic, and costlier, 911. Porsche modifiers cottoned on fast, though. Give a Cayman 400bhp-plus and the appropriate chassis tweaks, as Ruf has done with its 3400K Coupé, and inter-model Porsche rivalries at trackdays take on a whole new complexion, with 911 pilots acquiring a forced appreciation of the Cayman’s curvy rump as well as permanently perplexed expressions.

Porsche hasn’t let the Cayman off the leash completely for its mid-life overhaul (the all-new model appears in 2012), but it has given it the wherewithal to make more of its natural assets, most notably a hike in power, the dual-clutch PDK transmission so far seen only on the 911, and, although it said it never would, the option of a limited-slip differential. The visual changes are just noticeable enough to differentiate the second-generation car from its predecessor, with new bumpers and lights that seem slightly more sympathetic to the heavily radiused panels of the Cayman’s upper bodywork than before. The high-performance headlight units feature LED daytime running elements and there are LEDs in the rear lamps, too.

Inside there are more clues to make you think Porsche is relaxing the idea that the 911 must preserve its premium status at all costs. The new Cayman gets the option of the same multimedia touch-screen and iPod docking system and the whole ambience of the cabin has clicked up a couple of quality notches, looking and feeling classier and more solid than before.

The base Cayman gets a new 2.9-litre flat-six, with 261bhp (20bhp more than the old 2.7), but we’re heading for the Sierra de Grazalema in the new 3.4-litre Cayman S, which, as well as an extra 49cc, has direct injection, a 500rpm higher rev ceiling and an additional 24bhp and 22lb ft of torque, lifting the peak outputs to 315bhp at 7200rpm and 273 lb ft at 4750rpm. Order your Cayman S with the optional (£1920) seven-speed PDK gearbox and Sports Chrono package, which includes launch control, and the 0-62mph sprint can be demolished in 4.9sec, exactly the same time Porsche claims for the six-speed manual version of its base 911, the Carrera 3.6. The words ‘well’, ‘well’ and ‘well’ spring to mind.

It almost makes you want to ignore the bloody-mindedly-just-to-be-different, counter-intuitive push-to-upshift/pull-to-downshift thumb ‘n’ finger buttons on the steering wheel, especially as the PDK transmission itself is so swift, smooth and, in every other respect, ‘on side’. And there are other sound reasons to tick the PDK box: 30.1mpg – a clear 4.4mpg improvement on the old Tiptronic-equipped Cayman S – and a 2g/km reduction in the CO2, which drops to 221. Left in plain ‘auto’ mode, the ’box shuffles up to seventh gear so quickly on a light throttle you wonder whether it’s defaulted to a ‘limp home’ mode, but it’s just doing its bit for your wallet and the climate. It’s not enough. Not when the standard six-speed manual gearbox is so sweet, slick and satisfying to use. If PDK is to be an unqualified success, the rumoured switch to paddles at the next convenient opportunity can’t come soon enough.

But press the ‘Sport Plus’ button on the lower part of the facia (where all of the driving-related switchgear is located) and the programmed pussy-footing flies out the window so fast you can feel the brush of its slipstream on your face. It’s replaced by almost scary throttle sensitivity and an eagerness to extract every last scintilla of performance from the engine that guarantees faster progress as much through coercion as anything else. The button labelled simply ‘Sport’ strikes a better balance between drama and decorum (or raciness and refinement if you like), and while it too kicks in the firmer of the damper settings automatically, a separate button allows you to switch back to the more comfortable setting.

Photographer Chris Rutter and I discover all this on the A372 heading east from El Bosque to Grazalema. We’re hardly pushing the envelope, not least because white concrete blocks line the side of the road with the airy drops. Besides, there are a couple of golden eagles gliding distractingly overhead; it’s hard to resist the urge to shoot the odd glance skywards. It’s a fine road, though – smoothly surfaced with the sort of well-engineered bends and clear sight-lines that make it easy to settle into a rhythm as it winds through a landscape that is both rugged and lush with a dazzling diversity of flora and fauna.

Although the Cayman’s suspension components and geometry have been left alone, spring rates, dampers and anti-roll-bar settings have been modified in line with the increased power and performance. Most noticeably, the steering has a reassuring weightiness at speed that wasn’t so apparent before.

Our car is on the standard 18in rims, with steel disc brakes rather than the optional ceramics, but otherwise it’s loaded to what I’d judge to be the optimum degree chassis-wise, with PASM (Porsche Active Suspension Management) electronic dampers and the limited-slip diff (a must-have at £737). On some of the tighter hairpins during the steeper part of the ascent a handful of miles back, the benefit of the latter was hard to miss, the rear wheels scavenging available grip and delivering drive out of bends that would simply have been outside the repertoire of the old car. Porsche has admitted as much – albeit tacitly – and it’s further evidence that the company is allowing the Cayman to fulfil its potential.

And as we venture deeper into this massive, brooding landscape, the cabin of the Cayman S seems a pretty wonderful place to be. The shape and support of the seats nudge perfection, the supple equanimity of the ride is a revelation on the softer of the damper settings, and the rather fabulous flat-six (the more girthsome muscles get a remastered, extra-feral soundtrack) seems able to summon serious urge from loping revs. Refinement is another strong suit. The loudest noise is a seductive one: the richly layered howl of the engine at full throttle as it passes 4000rpm. Ease off and the note melts into the low-level ambient whoosh.

The challenge changes as dramatically as the scenery as we swing onto the CA9104 and track the road’s tortuous, mountain-hugging passage to Zahara and its magnificent lake. As the road twists and climbs along the side of the spectacular limestone massif, the Cayman feels more and more in its element. We rocket out of the tightest hairpin bends, the fusion of engine potency and the sublimely responsive PDK transmission combining with the gorgeously progressive transient manners, damping control and stability to stunning and deeply satisfying effect. On these soaring mountain roads, go and grip are prodigious and well matched; you can takes liberties with this car and not frighten yourself. Given the breadth and richness of the new Cayman S’s other attributes, the extra reach of its dynamic abilities seems like the best of good news up here. Even the brakes prove to be beautifully progressive and refuse to buckle, however severe the demands made of them. Ask for the lot and speed is wiped off with the suddenness of a losing Oscar nominee’s false grin as the TV camera leaves their face.

As we close down the final few miles to Zahara, sunlight spears through soft ruptures in the heavy-bellied clouds, spotlighting the densely carpeted foothills of mountains. Slowing to a crawl, we just gaze, mouths agape. Ahead? Another superb mountain road heading west to Ronda. Behind? The blast back to Chiclana beckons. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of an open-ended schedule. For once, it would be good to park up and drink it all in. On the other hand, we’re rather glad we’ve left ourselves less time to get back than it took to get here. That A-to-B instinct has taken a grip once more, and, right now, I can’t think of a better car in which to act upon it than this one.